


Marvel Cinematic Oneshots

by LadyCookieCupcake



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Child Reader, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Multi, Older reader, One-Shots, Other, Parent Bucky Barnes, Parent Reader, Parent Tony Stark, Phone Calls, Smut, Swearing, Torture, communication is key, gender neutral reader, male reader - Freeform, prompt, younger reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:54:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22091380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCookieCupcake/pseuds/LadyCookieCupcake
Summary: A collection of one-shots centred around the MCU characters, based around various prompts I find over the internet (though mostly on Tumblr).
Relationships: Clint Barton & Reader, Clint Barton/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Loki (Marvel) & Reader, Loki (Marvel)/Reader, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Reader, Peter Parker & Reader, Peter Parker/Reader, Pietro Maximoff & Reader, Pietro Maximoff/Reader, Steve Rogers & Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader, Thor (Marvel)/Reader, Tony (Marvel) & Reader, Tony Stark & Reader, Tony Stark/Reader, Wade Wilson & Reader, Wade Wilson/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	1. ~ Table of Contents ~

**_NSFW Tags:_ **

  * NSFW-S = Not Safe For Work-Smut
  * NSFW-V = Not Safe For Work-Violence
  * NSFW-D = Not Safe For Work-Death
  * NSFW-L = Not Safe For Work-Lime
  * NSFW-MS = Not Safe For Work-Minor Swearing
  * NSFW-S = Not Safe For Work-Swearing



_**SFW Tags:** _

  * SFW-Fa = Safe For Work-Family
  * SFW-Fl = Safe For Work-Fluff
  * SFW-G = Safe For Work-Generic
  * SFW-H/C = Safe For Work-Hurt/Comfort
  * SFW-Co = Safe For Work-Comfort



Also, you may have seen a lot of these already, as I published them before on here. However, I wanted all of the one-shots put together, though, so they're a bit neater. So apologies for any confusion I may have caused. :)

* * *

**{{ B e f o r e }}**

  * Table of Contents | Chapter One



**{{ C l I n t B a r t o n | H a w k e y e }}**

  * love will find you | Chapter Two (( NSFW-MS; minor violence ))



**{{ J a m e s "Bucky" B a r n e s | The . W i n t e r . S o l d i e r }}**

  * goodbye to the one i lost | Chapter Three (( SFW-H/C ))
  * promise | Chapter Four (( SFW-Fa ))



**{{ L o k i }}**

  * make you feel my love | Chapter Five (( NSFW-S ))



**{{ P e t e r . P a r k e r | S p i d e r - M a n }}**

  * protective brothers and annoying boyfriends (ft. Wade Wilson) | Chapter Six (( SFW-Fa ))
  * lebensmüde | Chapter Seven (( SFW-H/C ))
  * viragg | Chapter Eight (( SFW-H/C ))



**{{ P i e t r o . M a x i m o f f | Q u i c k s i l v e r }}**

  * healing you | Chapter Nine (( NSFW-V (Injured Pietro, no actual fighting); SFW-Hurt/Comfort ))
  * healing you (smut ending) | Chapter Ten (( NSFW-S ))
  * overreaction (sequel to Healing You; though can be read as standalone) | Chapter Eleven (( SFW-Fa; NSFW-L ))



**{{ S t e v e . R o g e r s | C a p t a i n . A m e r i c a }}**

  * safe and sound | Chapter Twelve (( NSFW-V; SFW-Co ))



**{{ T h o r }}**

  * pigtails and patience | Chapter Thirteen (( SFW-Fl ))



**{{ T o n y . S t a r k | I r o n . M a n }}**

  * confronting a fear | Chapter Fourteen (( SFW-Fa; SFW-Fl ))



**{{ W a d e . W i l s o n | D e a d p o o l }}**

  * birthday dinner | Chapter Fifteen (( SFW-Co; SFW-Fl ))
  * protective brothers and annoying boyfriends (ft. Peter Parker) | Chapter Six (( SFW-Fa ))




	2. goodbye to the one i lost;;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> winter soldier | bucky barnes x female!reader ;; past relationship
> 
> 1940s flashback; elderly reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> published originally on here: 08/05/2016  
> edited: 02/01/2020

When I first met him, I was at the World Exposition of Tomorrow with my two best friends — Bonnie and Connie, were their names — and they had just left me alone to go off with two men.

_When they finally arrived with the men, I was quite far away, admiring an exhibit when I had so happened to turn and witness the scene._

_I can still remember noting how different they looked; 'like polar opposites', I had thought._

_One had been quite tiny, physically anyway. He gave off the appearance of timidity but when he spoke, there was the determination and strength of a man who wanted to do something with his life._

_He was truly magnificent, and the more I ponder on it, the more I come to realise that the destiny of which took hold of him should not have been so surprising. It was as if he were born for such a fate._

_The other one, another male, was taller, broader even, and had darker hair whereas the tinier one had fairer hair. He held himself with all the arrogant exertion of a billionaire flaunting his money, his smirk showed evident superiority; and the second I laid my eyes on him I knew I would hate him._

_He was, to put it quite bluntly, an absolute arse._

("Mother! Can you not?!"

"What?"

"Nanny said a bad word!"

"Yes, sweetheart. I know."

"Oh, shush, darling. She's smart enough to know not to copy. Now can I finish, please?"

"...Hmm.")

_Now, as I was saying; so I was feeling just a little lucky my friends had deemed these boys — because that was really all they were, boys masquerading as men — worth something._

_They could go on their dates and I could look around the exhibition, without either of us distracting the other._

_Because, bless their souls, as lovely as they were, my friends did not enjoy such exhibitions. They'd have taken one look around and then we'd have left._

_I stayed far away from them all, admiring the exhibits and reading the little paragraphs explaining what each and every on of them were, and though it was quite lonesome, I got to see everything I wanted._

_I was happy, so happy even that when I finally met up with the group, not even the way the taller boy was staring at me could ruin it._

_And then he spoke, of course._

_"Hi," was all he had said as he held out his hand, the little quirk of his lips so different to his earlier smirk. It was...strangely refreshing and I could've sworn my heart jumped a beat, but that couldn't have been right._

_Hearts only beat like that when you're in love and I wasn't in love! Especially not with this boy! I hardly even knew him for one and two- well, I never did find the other excuse._

_So I politely shook his hand — because that is what you must do; above all else, be polite — and then I turned to Connie and announced I was going to take my leave. I was getting quite tired, so I was eager to get to bed._ >

_Connie had not been listening, too interested in admiring the image that was James Barnes — though I later found out he preferred Bucky —, so I left with the hope they did not worry too much._

_I hadn't taken no more than two steps when I felt a firm grip that paused my walking, and I had been forced to turn to look up into the earnest face of Bucky._

_He had looked so desperate when he asked if he could walk me home. 'For your safety,' he had explained and I found myself — _despite_ myself — unwittingly nodding and letting him walk beside me._

_I knew if I were to look behind me, I would see an angry Connie but I found I didn't care. Apparently the mere presence of him had lulled me to a feeling of safety, and I was quite content to walk in silence._

_When I finally arrived home, he had simply smiled and left only when I had firmly closed and locked the door._

_I went to bed that night with the image of his smile still imprinted within my mind, and the confusion of a proper first time crush stirring my belly silly. Of course, I had not known this at the time and merely passed it off as the side effect of eating something I shouldn't have._

_It was such a simple time back then..._

( "And then what, Nanny?"

"Heh, calm down, sweetie. I'm getting there.")

_The next time I saw him was just a few days after, and I was on my way back from the butcher's. I'd managed to get a great bargain out of the man, and I was quite proud of myself._

_I viewed it as a great achievement, the greatest of the day actually, and was so focused on the fact that I had turned a corner without anticipating any other would do so at the same moment._

_It was silly of me, I know. I should have focused and I should have apologised. But silly me bumped into the other person and dropped the meat._

_The other caught me just in time before I fell, but I was so angry with myself, I lashed out. I was always so...angry back then._

_And I should not have blamed him for such a silly mistake on my part, but that's what I did. Determined this man would understand my anger, I turned to him, ready for a shouting match I was so sure I'd win when I noticed, it was him, the man from the Fair._

_Bucky Barnes. The Arrogant Boy. The one who had so kindly walked me home, despite my obvious aloof behaviour towards him._

_He had not looked arrogant in that moment. In fact, he looked quite concerned, as if he were worried for me. He peered down with genuine concern, those hazel eyes bright with the emotion, and I was so taken aback that I could only stand there, looking horribly like a fish out of water._

_He seemed to ignore my silence and knelt to pick up the meat. Standing, he dusted off the bit that hit the ground and then passed it to me._

_With a smile, he said, "There, brand new."_

_I was so startled at the unexpected kind gesture, that I forgot to even think of how disgusting the meat now was._

_This man, this smug man, was being incredibly kind to me. I felt as if I didn't deserve it. It felt wrong almost._

_My heart skipped a beat again and I realised, I really _was_ in love with this man. My eyes widened as he helped me up like a gentlemen. I thanked him and he walked me home once more, never once letting go of the rather heavy piece of meat until I was back home. And with a smile and a soft farewell, he was gone._

_Or he would've been had I not have called after him. Instead of going straight in, I had stared quite wistfully after him. I didn't want him to go. I wanted to spend more time with him, talk with him, get to know him better._

_It was such a strange feeling. One you don't quite understand until you've experienced it. It was intoxicating._

_I called after him, my eagerness terribly obvious but I hadn't been aware of that at the time. I just didn't want him to go. And he stopped quite suddenly, turning and running back to me as if I'd called for help._

_He was in front of me within seconds, out of breath but still able to ask 'Yes?' as casually as one could._

_That startled me too. He did not know me nor I him, and yet one call of his name and he came running. I'd never experienced that with someone, that eagerness. It was so strange, and so lovely that without a thought, I stepped forward and kissed him._

_I didn't think of the consequences, I didn't think of anything actually. I just dived straight in and kissed him. It was both brilliant and terrifying, this being my first proper kiss, but I was relieved that I wasn't the only one, for when I pulled back Bucky was also wide-eyed._

_Heh. Though I suppose that could've been because I _had_ quite abruptly kissed him; anyone would be surprised._

_Torn between wanting to kiss him again and apologising for my sudden action, I'd pulled back but a simple shake of his head stopped me. He leaned back down and kissed me himself._

_The second kiss felt so better than the first, like an _eternity_ and _warmth_ , the type of thing you always read about in books but something I never thought I'd experienced._

_And it lit a confidence I'd never felt before inside of me. I grabbed his jacket and pulled him inside my house-._

( "Mama, please. She's ten."

"Oh, right. Sorry."

"No, mama! I wanna know!"

"Wait 'till you're older." )

_Let's just say I had been so happy that night. I can still remember thinking: 'This is the happiest I've ever been,' as I pulled him closer._

_That night, though short-lived, seemed like something out of a romance novel. It was so very...lovely..._

( "Nanny?"

"Mum?" )

_And then he was gone. I woke up to find myself alone, and then nine months later your mother appeared. I hadn't been prepared. I was scared and alone and just not ready._

_Don't look so angry, my sweet girl. Your grandfather was a brilliant man, he left to help save the world. He was a hero, like in one of your comics. I was just a little sad is all, but your mother helped me so much._

( "Love you too, Mum." )

 _She made life easier. Well, most of the times, those teenage years were certainly a handful. Don't stick your tongue out at me, Judith. Age hasn't hit my eyesight_ just _yet._

"Nanny, was Grandad really a hero?"

"Yes, my dear. He was _such_ a wonderful man. He went off to save the world. He..." 

"Right, honey. It's getting quite late and we've already gone past your bedtime. I think some rest will do us all the world of good." Judith interrupted, yawning as she stood and stretched.

Walking over to her daughter, she reached a hand out. Her daughter groaned as she took it and stood and the two older women watched as the youngest opened her mouth, probably to protest and complain— and yawned.

Her eyes widened before she huffed. "I'm not tired," she still tried.

Judith raised an eyebrow and replied with, "Doesn't matter. We've got to get up early tomorrow, remember?"

Barbara pouted and let go of her mother's hand to start her trek of stomping up the stairs.

Judith sighed and shook her head. She turned, ready to help her mother up to bed— and paused.

(Y/N) looked distant, eyes glazed over as if she was far away. Someplace Judith has never been, someplace Judith will never truly know.

Once, when she was younger, she caught this same gaze in her mother's eye after young, naive Judith asked after her father. She hadn't understood — and still doesn't, not really — but even then, she'd known that man — her father — had left a lasting impression her mother.

And there were times, moments of selfishness and anger, where Judith found it hard to not picture her father and feel hate, to look at her mother and wonder why she had to fall in love with such a flitting image.

Maybe then her mother wouldn't be so broken. Maybe then Judith could have good memories to share with her mother and help remind her mother of those good times, and not of a time that never was. Could never be.

Judith sighed and shook her head again. Now's not a time to be thinking of such things.

_Besides, if Father had a choice, he probably would never have left._

He was a hero, who helped make sure this world was a safe one to live in, for her mother, for Judith, for her own daughter. She had no right to hate him for the war. Just, sometimes, hating him, _blaming_ him was easier than missing a man she knew next to nothing about.

"Mum, it's time for bed." She called out gently, hoping she didn't scare her mother. Her mother still jumped though, looking around as if she'd forgotten where she was, and then frowned.

"Where's Barb?" She asked, looking back at the other woman.

"Getting ready for bed," She explained and then paused, "I hope." Her mother smiled, tired but still happy, and Judith stepped forward to help her up. She didn't wave her away like she usually did. Instead, she accepted her help.

It took a bit to get her mother to bed; her mother couldn't walk as fast as she once could, and the stairlift only moved a slow pace. But when she finally laid down, her mother sighed and practically sunk into the bed.

Judith helped her mother get dressed, tucked her in once she was ready and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, muttering a quiet 'goodnight'. Her mother was asleep before she'd even stepped away from the bed.

Judith made sure to keep the door ajar, allowing some light to stream in, and detoured to her daughter's room, not that far away from her mother'. It took a little longer to get her daughter to settle down, but when she did, she repeated the same motions she'd done with her mother; kiss on the forehead, door slightly ajar.

And then went downstairs, and promptly fell onto the sofa, closing her eyes against the sudden sharpness of tears threatening to fall.

\---

"Barbara, are you ready?" Judith called, a hand on the bannister. She leaned forward to hear better. There was a rustle of something before a thud, and then her daughter came running into view- and then fell on the last step.

Judith caught her just before she could face plant the floor, and helped her stand right again. Her eyebrow raised and Barbara grimaced. She opened her mouth to tell her daughter off when a knock interrupted her.

Judith turned, distracted for a moment and Barbara took the opportunity to run into the living room. The older woman could hear her mother asking what she was running from.

She sighed and turned to the door, opening it up. She smiled and felt her shoulders lose a little bit of their tension at the sight of her husband and his smile. Steve always managed to make her smile, even when she was at her most stressed state.

"You ready?" Steve asked as he stepped inside, and she leaned up to place a kiss on his cheek. She nodded.

"Barbara, come say hello to your father!"

The younger girl raced into sight as her mother disappeared into the living room herself, and launched herself at the man, who caught her just in time to hug her close. His daughter's arms wrapped themselves tightly around his neck.

He missed this, seeing his daughter's smile, seeing his wife's beautiful face, even seeing his mother-in-law. He was always so busy, he rarely got time to spend proper time with his family. So he loved these, no matter how rare they felt; it was the only time he actually relaxed too.

He wished he could have more of these times, where he didn't have to worry. Even if seeing his mother-in-law hurt him.

Said mother-in-law appeared then, holding onto her daughter, and she smiled when she saw him. "Steve!" She exclaimed, happy to see her son-in-law healthy and alive. "It's been a while."

Steve let his daughter down then and stepped forward to hug her softly, only to grunt as her own arms tightened around him.

"I ain't a doll, Steve. I'm not going to break." She chided with a smile and he stepped back, a sheepish grin on his face. As she stepped back to hold onto her daughter, who once again began leading her out to the car, he couldn't help clenching his jaw.

She was so...tired. Not in the weathered skin, not in the slow pace of her walk but her eyes. Soft and so very tired. He could still remember seeing her the first time; he hadn't paid much attention, thinking she was just another girl Bucky'd go after and dump the next day.

But when Bucky had reappeared that night, he'd done so with a smile on his face, softer than he's ever seen on him. Even months later, when they were busy with training and fighting a war, Bucky occasionally spoke of her.

When they were alone, in the rare moments they got of peace and quiet, Steve would listen as Bucky wondered if she still thought about him, and dreamed of a life he and her could've had.

Steve always wondered what he'd do if he found out he had a daughter. He always thought Bucky would've been a great father.

"Steve, you coming?" Judith's voice broke through his thoughts and he turned to see the concern shine in her blue eyes, so alike Bucky's. He sighed through his nose and nodded, adding a reassuring smile when the concern didn't fade.

With a raise of the eyebrow, she glanced over him before deciding she'd believe him, and grabbed his hand, dragging him out of the house. They were going to have a nice day, together, far away from the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! :D  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. :D
> 
> Here's my [Tumblr](https://ladycookiecupcake.tumblr.com)


	3. promise ;;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> father!bucky barnes x parent!reader ;; established relationship  
> (ft. oc son)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit: 03/01/2020

_You ran and ran, trying to gain as much speed as you could but it never seemed enough. They were too far off, their figures just blurry masses all-too-quickly mixing. You had to get to them, you needed to get to them, but...._

_"Bucky! Jamie!" You called out, hoping your husband would turn around, or just stop. He had to stop, he had to!_

_You tried to speed up your running but your legs were tiring, muscles screaming to stop yourself but you wouldn't. You needed to get to them. Please! Bucky! Jamie! Please..._

_Their figures, already just black, blurry masses against the bright background, slowly disappeared before they were gone completely-_

"NO!" You screeched, eyes snapping open and body shooting upright. Heart racing, you blinked a couple of times, getting rid of the sleep in them before looking around. You were in your bedroom, the one you shared with your husband, and as expected, everything that was there still was - the arctic blue wallpaper, the pale dresser, the wardrobe, your husband- wait, no, your husband was not there. Why was your husband not there? He should be there!

You looked around again, feeling your husband's side of the bed before practically throwing yourself out of bed. When you were sure he wasn't there, you ran straight to the door and threw it open. "Bucky!" You called. You didn't care about the noise you were making, you didn't care if it annoyed the neighbours, you needed to find Bucky and your son now!

"Bucky!" You called again, but still no answer. You ran down the hall, mind jumbled with thoughts of the worst-case scenarios. What if somebody came and took Bucky? What if they took your son? What if they were somewhere else, bleeding and hurt and- oh god. Oh god, oh god, _oh god_.

What if Bucky had just decided to leave on his own accord and took Jamie with him?

They weren't in the house. Every room you checked came up empty, and the more room you passed and the lack of family members, the quicker your heartbeat raced.

After a while, you had to stop. You needed to calm your heart rate or else you were going to have a heart attack. Sliding down the wall, you placed a hand over your beating heart and closed your eyes, only to instantly shoot them back open again when images of your nightmare came flashing back.

You knew why you'd had the nightmare; just the night before, both you and Bucky had, had an argument about the missions he went on and the fact that at any given moment, you could lose him, and how he did not seem to even realise what that'd do to you. With a hint of cockiness, he'd said he would be fine, that you 'weren't going to lose him that easily', but you were sure, you were so sure you would if he carried it on. He got annoyed, you got annoyed, and then you stormed off upstairs to the main bedroom and closed the door quietly, mindful of your sleeping baby.

You suppose the argument and the feelings of worry and fear had led to the nightmare, but now, waking up to find nobody, you feared your nightmare had become reality. You didn't mean anything you said last night, you were just worried and you didn't want Jamie to grow up without ever knowing his dad. He was still young, you didn't want that to happen to him.

So lost in your worry-filled thoughts, you were completely unaware of the door beside you (which led to Jamie's own nursery) opened, allowing a tallish figure to walk out, cradling a toddler on his hip. He stared down at you with wide eyes, and careful not to drop the boy, Bucky crouched down, gently laying a hand on your shoulder. You showed all the signs of a person trapped in their own mind - and that was a thing he understood very well -(?), and he didn't want that for his beloved spouse.

"Honey?" He uttered gently, careful not to startle you, and you snapped out of it, turning to face him with wide eyes. You noticed the look of worried confusion on his face, the way his eyebrows were knitted together, the soft pull of his lips forming a frown. He looked so lost all of a sudden, but you didn't care because he was there, he hadn't left.

You opened your arms and wrapped him in a hug, only to pull back when you noticed your son in his arms, sleeping. "Oh, sorry." You quietly spoke and lifted a hand to softly caress his check, relishing in the soft touch of his skin. Your son was there too, alive and there. You smiled and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead before you leaned up to your husband and did the same.

Pressing your forehead against his, you looked into his eyes and instantly fell in love all over again. There was so much love, happiness and joy in those ... eyes of his, you couldn't help but remember why you loved him exactly.

"I love you," You uttered against his lips, which were a mere inch away from yours, and his lips tugged upwards into a soft smile. "And I you." He said, and although he couldn't quite repeat what you said, you knew he meant it. He meant every last word of it.

You beamed, and Bucky leaned in to kiss you on the lips. You kissed back, relishing in the feel of his chapped lips...right until the moment your son decided to wake up and look up. Although he was quite young, he still decided he did not like seeing his parents kiss, it was gross!

"Ew," (S/N) said, and you pulled back, startled.

Both you and Bucky looked down and chuckled at the disgusted look on his face. You both kissed him on the cheeks, and he slowly wiped at it, still pretty sleepy. "Eh, gross!"

You grinned at him. Bucky's arm wrapped around you and tightened, bringing you in closer. You sighed contently. Now the nightmare was just that, a nightmare. Now you were safe in his arms, knowing they wouldn't leave you, even after an argument. Now you felt alright.

"Promise you won't leave." You had to make sure, though. You needed to hear it.

He shifted his head to kiss you on the top of your head and muttered; "I promise. You promise?"

You nodded.

"I promise."

Yeah, everything was alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! :D  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. :D
> 
> Here's my [Tumblr](https://ladycookiecupcake.tumblr.com)


	4. protective brothers and annoying boyfriends ;;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wade wilson x gn!parker!reader  
> (ft. brother!peter parker)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally published;; 17/02/2018  
> edited;; 05/01/2020

You knew your brother wasn't going to be happy when he found out. You knew Peter would probably huff and puff and wish he could actually blow the house (or apartment building, in this case) down. He would probably glare at you and Wade in silence before getting up and going to his room to fume and sulk.

You expected this, all of this because that was the type of person Peter was; no matter how angry he was, he would never hurt you or Aunt May in his anger. He loved you both too much.

Deadpool, however...

_Crash!_

"Wilson, I'm gonna kill you!" shouted the angered voice of your younger brother, and not a second later the figures of the anti-hero and the superhero came rushing into the living room.

You sighed as you wished - for the hundredth time - that you had agreed to Aunt May's decision. She knew Peter as well as you did, and she knew if Peter found out about the relationship with Deadpool in the room, there was probably going to be violence. But you just had to go and deny it all, going through with your original plan anyway - and at the same time Peter had just come home from one of his checks around the city.

You couldn't have picked worse timing, could you? God, you really hated it when Aunt May was the sensible one sometimes.

"Aww, Spidey, you wouldn't do that to your good ol' pal, Dead-!" Wade replied, playfully, only to pause when Peter growled. He yelped in surprise as the younger male lunged for him.

Wade stepped swiftly aside, giving Peter no time to stop stop himself. You watched in distant horror as he smashed gracelessly into the vase - the very vase that just so happened to be Aunt May's favourite too. A well-placed web was the only thing that saved the two of you from Aunt May's wrath.

You took a deep breathe, calming your thundering heart. Both of you knew a well-trained assassin was nothing compared to an angry Aunt May, and neither of you wanted to suffer _that_.

Peter carefully placed the vase onto the sofa before resuming his shouting-fighting-whatever match with Wade. Deep down, you still wished she'd appeared. She'd have an actual chance of stopping all of this. Even Wade was scared of annoying her.

Alas, she was not. She was upstairs, sorting out boxes of things she wante to take down to the charity store, and very promptly ignoring the mess you were making down here. So it was down to you to stop them.

Stepping in between the two of them, you crossed your arms and began, "Peter-," only to be interrupted by said man turning to you.

Removing the mask, he glared at you, though not as fiercely as you'd expected, and raised a hand.

"Don't, (Y/N). I don't want you to date him! He isn't good enough for you!" You huffed and uncrossed your arms to stop closer to him, eyes narrowed and finger pointing accusingly at him.

"No, Peter! You don't get to decide who is and isn't good enough for me!" You shouted, "Remember, I'm older than you. I've gone through my fair share of heartbreaks but this one, Wade..." You looked over your shoulder, looking up at the masked face of your boyfriend with loving eyes. "-Wade is different. I love him," You turned back to your brother with a glare, "-and no matter how much you dislike him, that _isn't_ going to change. I won't end this just because you disapprove of it!"

Peter stared with only a smidgen of surprise. He knew you just as you knew him, which meant he knew very well once you had your mind set on something, you were going to get it, and you wanted Wade Wilson. You really wanted the rude, perverted slimeball....

Peter sighed and looked away, rubbing a hand over his face as he clenched the other around his mask. He wanted what was best for you and he knew it wasn't Wade Wilson, but if he made you happy - though _how_ , Peter did wonder -, then maybe... no, Wade- _Deadpool_ can't be the one to make you happy!

He groaned and crossed his arms, shaking his head like the stubborn teenager he was. You glared and re-crossed your own.

If Deadpool hadn't known you were older, he'd have mistaken the two of you for twins. You were perfectly in sync with each other; you two could have a whole conversation merely by your eyes, and to top it off, you both always finished each other's sentences (and once sandwiches, but that didn't end well... it still gave Wade the shivers remembering it.)

Though he'd never admit it, Wade found this incredibly creepy - and sexy, but he'd never admit that too.

Finally Peter relented and you smirked, the silent conversation between the two of you settling the whole thing. Just like that, it was over.

Peter quietly sighed, unfolded his arms to open wider and waited for you to take the offer. You chuckled and walked into the hug, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Just, be careful, please." He whispered into your ear and you nodded to reassure your protective little brother. You knew he was just trying to look out for you, and it was nice to know that someone was looking out for your back. However, it was also nice to know he was going to let it go.

Pulling back, you pecked him on the cheek and smiled at him, happy when you got a smile back.

"Why don't you go back to Aunt May? She needs help with packing up the clothes anyway." You asked, and although Peter looked hesitant, he eventually walked off, glaring at Wade as he walked past. The little nudge was to be expected, however, but thankfully Wade just let it be, stumbling a little back for good effect.

Once Peter was out of the room and the door was closed, you sighed and walked closer to Wade, who instantly wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you in closer as he bent down to kiss you on the forehead.

"Your brother hates me." Wade, as per usual, sated the obvious, and you rolled your eyes, laying your head on his chest as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"He doesn't hate you, per say; he just- very strongly dislikes you."

Wade chuckled and kissed you again, this time on the lips. The kiss was sweet and lasted a couple of seconds but god, did you crave more. He pulled back, leaning his forehead against yours, and you closed your eyes as he did so.

"I love you," You whispered.

"And I you." He replied.

You smiled, happy you were with Wade and that your brother was going to let your relationship with Wade Wilson go...for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! :D  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. :D
> 
> Here's my [Tumblr](https://ladycookiecupcake.tumblr.com)


	5. lebensmüde ;;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Hey, Pete."_ / a phone call in the middle of the night.
> 
> peter parker x reader ;; implied relationship  
> post-infinity war

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lebensmüde (German): ‘Life tired’
> 
> originally published;; 24/08/2018  
> edited;; 05/01/2020

“Hey, Pete."

You weren’t sure why you were doing this. It wasn’t going to accomplish anything; it wouldn’t make them stop, it wouldn’t bring help. All you were doing is listening to the sound of your own voice and honestly, it wasn’t helping.

You didn’t stop though. It was like your voice was on stuck on the play bottom and the pause button had broken, forever to repeat the same thing over and over and over and over until- until nothing, really. Until the universe crumbled. Until you crumbled.

“It’s Y/N - obviously. Who else would be calling you at three in the morning?” A chuckle escaped through your lips. It sounded dead to your ears.

“I- um- I don’t know what to say. What can I say? It’s just- it’s, um, happening again, is all and I…I don’t know what to do.” You pause, eyes falling to the ground of your bedroom door. You noticed the pile of clothes you’d thrown down as soon as you came in. you should probably clean that up.

“I don’t even know why I’m doing this. Maybe I just like the sound of my own voice. Maybe I just wish I could replace it with yours. You always knew- know what to say. Even when you thought you didn’t, even when you really didn’t, just hearing you speak helped. You could’ve been talking about your science projects - you know, the ones I never really understood - and I would’ve loved it. Just- just hearing you-,” Your voice broke suddenly and you looked up in bewilderment. There was a blur in front of your eyes. You blinked once, twice, three times and felt the wet slide of tears break free.

A hand flew to your cheeks, wiped them away before you realised what you were doing and you looked away.

“I went to school today.” You began, “I went to school and I did the usual classes. Mrs Matterson was teaching science; she’s just come back from maternity leave. She has a beautiful baby girl - she named her Dolores. She’s fine, the baby’s healthy. Mrs Matterson misses-.”

You clench your jaw.

"I thought I was prepared for the normality of it all, you know. It shouldn’t be hard, going back to that hellhole. It wouldn’t ever change, no matter what. I wasn’t, though. Not really. It was a lot harder than I thought possible. Nothing had changed; the classes were normal, the students and teachers were normal, even the decathlon team was normal. Maybe that was the problem though. The normality of it all felt…wrong. Like a betrayal. It feels bad saying that. Others have moved on, simple as. They’re allowed to move on, I’d encourage it, in fact!”

“Maybe it’s jealousy. Maybe it’s bitterness. Maybe my heart is just destined to break knowing others have found a purpose and I- well, I haven’t. But it’s not easy. I’ve tried. God, have I tried! But-!”

You sighed.

“Flash was there, at the decathlon hall today. He was his usual dickish self. I don’t think he’ll ever change but I really could have done without him. Breathing’s hard enough without his air polluting it. Though MJ told him to fuck off and for once, he actually listened…

Maybe he isn’t as unaffected as he pretends to be.”

You blinked.

“Maybe none of us are.”

You looked back to the phone. The phone was off, the black screen devoid of everything but your face. You stared back. Your reflection looked so dead to you.

You looked away, blinked.

Ah, yes, you hadn’t even turned your phone had yet… you forgot.

Huh.

Your eyes slipped closed and you felt a tremble in your hands. It didn’t stop.

“Goodbye, Peter.”

Maybe, if you kept your eyes closed for long enough, you’ll hear a voice answer back.

Which is silly.

The dead can't talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! :D  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. :D
> 
> Here's my [Tumblr](https://ladycookiecupcake.tumblr.com)


	6. viragg ;;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> peter parker x gn!reader ;; established relationship
> 
> the one where communication fails and relationship problems are caused because of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit: 04/01/2020

The door opened on the second knock after a woman’s voice shouted from behind it to ‘hold on a second'.

You tried not to let your disappointment show when you smiled, Aunt May appearing in front of you in all her apron-wearing glory. She smiled back, hers a more genuinely-happy one and beckoned you in.

“I didn’t know you were coming, otherwise, I would have ordered dinner instead of making it.” Aunt May jokes and you laugh along with her, trying not to look as if you were sneaking glances towards a certain boy’s room. You failed.

"Go on,” Aunt May says with that smile of hers that spoke of nostalgic days, of remembering herself in your position. You sincerely hoped that was not the case. “He’s his room and I haven’t managed to get him out for the whole day; a project’s due or something. Maybe you can get him out.”

You nod, unsure, and walk to the door. You hesitate for a split second, wondering if you should knock or if it’d be pointless; this was, after all, your boyfriend but maybe a warning would be nice. Knock and then walk in. Catch him off guard. Don’t give him a chance to lie again.

Deciding to do exactly that, you knock once, sharply, and open the door. You quickly slip inside and look around.

He wasn’t there. Of course, he wasn’t.

Was he ever?

You sat down on his bed, felt the soft fabric of his duvet. You leaned down, resting a body that felt too weary all of a sudden, smelling the soft scent that reminded you so much of him. How was it possible to feel this tired over someone? How was it possible to feel this broken?

You knew Peter wasn’t even aware of it - he wasn’t cruel enough to know about it and _still_ do it. He was just oblivious and maybe that was worse, maybe the fact that he was too distracted to notice he was pushing you away made your heartbreak faster and harder than it would, were he to be as cruel.

Your eyes slipped closed as you felt that familiar sting in them, and you buried your face further into the pillows. Maybe if you buried yourself deep enough, the hurt will just disappear.

“Y/N?” You heard that familiar, gentle voice and froze. Oh. So, he was back. Finally. You didn’t even hear the door open, though.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” A hand followed the question and you tensed. You couldn’t help it; the comfort that hand once brought you no longer existed. That touch only served to remind you of all the touches he never seemed willing to give to you anymore.

You slowly sat up and shrugged his hand off, wiping your eyes. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed he was only wearing a shirt but you didn’t take it in. You didn’t care. Suddenly, you didn’t care if he was naked, if he saw your tears, if he _wondered_. Let him. It won’t make any difference.

"Darling, what’s wrong?” Peter asked, concern - actual fucking concern - in his voice, and that was the final straw. How dare- how fucking _dare_ he act like he gives a shit after avoiding you for months? Without no explanation? Without no warning? Just there one second, gone the next?

You spun around on him and glared, eyes narrowed with the fire you’ve had burning in you since the beginning of all of this. Peter startled, eyes widening in his bewilderment, and he looked as if he was going to back up. He doesn’t. It annoys you more, oddly enough.

"Really?” You hiss, “Really? You’re just going to sit there and act like nothing’s happened?” Your voice raises with each word until you’re shrieking it but you don’t care. So what if the neighbours hear? So what if Aunt May hears? All you want is to make sure Peter hears. He’s the only one that matters, that’s ever mattered.

Peter stares with confusion and - dare you say - a little hurt.

Why is he hurt?

It’s not as if you matter anymore.

“W-what are you talking about? What have I done?” He questions, a crease in-between his eyebrows beginning to form, and you stood, began to pace and folded your arms over your chest - anything to placate the urge to scream more. It wouldn’t do anything but annoy you further, and maybe even hurt your throat.

You had so much to say, so many thoughts you wanted to get rid of, to make him aware of it but now… now your mind is just empty, devoid of everything, numb almost.

Now that you finally had him here, listening, all you could do was pace.

You huffed and stopped, closing your eyes. You took in a couple of deep breaths, holding them for a few seconds before letting go.

Sit down, stop pacing, and just _calm_ down.

Pacing won’t accomplish anything, and neither will being emotional. It doesn’t matter if you’ve had the emotions building up in you since all of this began. You need to talk to him like an adult, like a proper grown-up, and find out why he’s been avoiding you.

And if he still refuses to answer, still continues to avoid you, well, then you give up. You break it off, be the first one to do so before he can, before he breaks your heart further.

Once your heart had calmed its rapid pounding, you sat in his desk chair and looked to the floor. You spared one glance to Peter before quickly looking away. You could see the confusion, the almost skittish look as if he was getting ready to bolt were you to shout again, and sure, maybe you did deserve that - you had just erupted on him suddenly - but was he really that oblivious to not understand why you were angry?

You sighed quietly and leaned back onto the chair, still straight back, arms still folded but if you were going to talk, you at least wanted to be as comfortable as possible - or at least not slouching.

“Y/N?” Peter asks, quietly, as if afraid his voice alone will make your snap again. You continue to look at the floor, blinking to rid yourself of the blur in your eyes. You won’t cry, you won’t.

“I’m pissed,” And wasn’t that an understatement? “I’m pissed and I’m annoyed and I’m- I’m scared. I’m scared you’re slipping away, I’m scared of losing you and of not knowing why. I won’t know if it’s something I’ve done or you’ve done, or if it’s just something I can’t control. I’m annoyed you won’t tell me and I’m pissed...at everything.”

That wasn’t enough. It was never going to be enough; there weren’t enough words, enough understanding to really describe how you felt about this whole goddamn situation but you’d said something. You let your thoughts take over, and though it may not have made sense, you finally released something. It was the beginning, at least.

You waited for a response, and after a couple of minutes of silence, you looked up to see Peter’s reaction. You were kind of afraid to. Even now, you weren't sure if you wanted to see what he was thinking, to see if maybe he didn’t care as much as you thought, to see if maybe he hadn’t even listened.

His face was doing something weird. You couldn’t really describe it had you needed too. It was a frown but too soft, a grimace but too happy. It looked sheepish and guilty and hurt all in one and it did nothing good for the butterflies in your belly nor the bile slowly climbing your throat.

You weren’t sure what to make of it

Peter looked away, down at the floor like it was the most interesting thing in the universe, and his hands began to fiddle for a second or two before he realised and stopped them.

“Peter?” You asked but trailed off. What could you say? You weren’t even sure what was going on anymore.

There was a moment of silence before Peter suddenly stood and walked over to his closet. He hesitated and you hesitated too, still wondering what was going on, wondering if this was the moment he broke up with you, finally told you how he felt. Did you really want to hear it? After all of this, did you really want to hear how much he didn’t like you?

“I wasn’t sure how to go about this, or if I even should. This isn’t easy.” Peter begins before trailing off, the hesitance clearer the more he spoke. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists, as if unsure what to do.

You sat silently, unsure.

Finally, Peter decided to just open the door. He disappeared inside and you could hear the sounds of hangers clinking together as they were shifted this way and that. When Peter seemed to find what he was looking for, he came back out and over to you.

He placed the pile of clothing into your hands and walked back to his bed. He avoided looking at you.

Raising an eyebrow, you looked down and took in the red and blue. What exactly was it though? Well, obviously, it was some sort of clothing but what?

 _I mean, it looks vaguely familiar,_ you thought, _but I don’t know what it could be._

You decided to unfold it and did just that, holding it out by the shoulders to properly see it-   
and you saw something that just confused you further.

It was...Spider-Man’s costume?

As in the masked vigilante known for helping with crimes the ‘big shot’ heroes never have time with? The 'friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man'? The arachnid superhero? _That_ arachnid superhero? Well, he was the only arachnid superhero you knew of but still, it was a _superhero’s_ outfit.

And Peter had it?

How? Why? Did he know Spider-Man? How, if so? And what did it have to do with you? Was Spider-Man the reason Peter had been avoiding you? But why-?

A dawning realisation practically slapped you in the face with how sudden the thought came.

The only way that would matter was if Peter was- but no, he wouldn’t- would he? But why-?

You looked back up to see Peter avoiding your gaze and you took a deep breath.

All right, so Peter was Spider-Man...right? Is that what this all meant?

“Peter-,” You paused and then decided a different route, “So, you’re Spider-Man?”

Peter looked up, startled. As if he was surprised you said such a thing.

He gulped before nodding.

“And you didn’t tell me because?” You trailed off, hoping he would explain and it would be a good explanation.

Peter seemed to hesitate before sighing, rubbing a hand over his face.

“It’s a dangerous job, Y/N, and not just for me. I put everyone in danger by simply knowing me. If anyone found out what you were to me-,” He cut himself off, seemingly startled at his own words, and then a blush formed on his cheeks.

You stared wide-eyed at the admission, unsure what to do or say. Of course, you knew he loved you; he was freakin’ dating you, after all. Peter wasn’t the type of guy to just date for the fun of it, especially not if he wasn’t sure he loved that person. But to hear that, especially after so long of doubt and uncertainty building up, that you mean enough to him that the thought of harm or death coming to you is heartbreaking… it’s one thing to know you mean something to someone, to actually hear them admit it is something else.

The silence continued on, neither one of you sure of what to say.

You sighed and decided you needed to do something if you wanted anything to actually progress.

 _And besides, I need to apologise,_ you reminded yourself. You needed to apologise for assuming, for getting angry, for not just simply asking what was going on.

You stood from the desk chair and moved to sit beside him, hesitating for only a second before actually doing so. Peter turned to you with his usual puppy-confused look and you couldn’t help but smile. He was adorable...and kind and so very sweet. How could you have gotten angry at him? How could you have thought the worst?

Of course, you wouldn’t have thought of Spider-Man but still…

“I want to apologise, for earlier, for getting angry and annoyed, for shouting.” You said. You could feel the embarrassment build at the earlier memory, and couldn’t bear to look at Peter. You looked down to your lap where your folded hands lay, resisting the urge to twiddle your thumbs.

“I just- didn’t know what was going on. I should’ve asked. Of course, I hadn’t expected that.” You joked, looking up at the red-and-blue suit.

Peter chuckled and you looked over. He looked a little sheepish, a little guilty.

“Yeah, it’s not something anyone would expect.” He answered, “I’m glad I’ve told you now though. I’m glad you’re taking this so well.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“How did you expect me to take this?”

He shrugged, looking away. Maybe panicked; upset even, to hear of this news.

You weren’t though. Maybe you should’ve been, maybe you should have felt at least a little bit of panic. But really, you were just relieved, relieved it wasn’t you, relieved it wasn’t something that couldn’t be fixed.

“Well, I’m glad you told me too. Now I know, I can prepare. You won’t have to worry, I’ll be able to protect myself.” You said with determination, and although Peter looked as if he wanted to argue, he smiled and nodded because he knew, as much as you did, you were strong. He didn’t need to worry, though he probably would. Peter Parker was a worrywart through and through; he always had been and always would be.

You leaned in and he turned to give you better access. Your lips met in a soft but eager kiss, and you felt how it once had been, the relationship slowly mending itself with that one, simple kiss.

The door suddenly opened and you both instinctively shot backwards, away from each other, to see Aunt May leaning in the doorway, her arms crossed and a smile on her face.

She didn’t give away anything and you weren’t sure if she had heard, but she didn’t look unhappy or angry. In fact, she looked almost relieved.

“C’mon, I’ve ordered takeaway and it’s getting cold.” She said simply before walking away, leaving the door open. You sighed in relief. She wasn’t angry. No matter whether she had heard or not, she wasn’t angry.

Peter stood and took your hand, leading you out of his room and to the dining table. Though the night hadn’t begun so great, you were glad it was settled. You finally knew the truth and that was going to bring you two a lot closer, you were sure.

You smiled. You'll be able to plan ahead for the future, for whatever it threw at you, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! :D  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. :D
> 
> Here's my [Tumblr](https://ladycookiecupcake.tumblr.com)


	7. healing you ;;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pietro maximoff x gn!stark!reader ;; crush, pre-relationship  
> mention of violence, mention of blood/evidence of violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally published;; 05/05/2016  
> sort of rewrite/edited;; 17/01/2020

The knock came at night just as you were about to turn off the light in the living room.

With your hand lightly touching the switch, you turned a little, looking over your shoulder at your front door. You weren't expecting anyone, especially not this late. It was midnight, after all, and you didn't make a habit out of picking acquaintances from late-night sleepers; so you were confused, and a little startled.

Leaving the light on – turning it off would only gain more unwanted attention and that was the last thing you wanted – you slowly walked to your drawer, quietly opening it to pull out the gun your father 'gifted' to you.

Of course, it wasn't quite like that; your father was the Tony Stark, which meant he was as protective of you as anyone would expect, and as such any weapon he made he forced you to have. You didn't really have a choice when it came to your safety.

In fact, he didn't even like the idea of you living on your own, especially when the location of the flat was quite a few miles away from his own home. You're sure the only reason he even agreed was because, in return, you agreed to have any weapon of his creation in your home.

The number of spy cameras and hidden laser beams in your home was astronomical, truly.

Though it was handy you did agree, for had you not you would not have been given that gun, nor been taught how to use it.

As it was, when the knock came, your mind went straight to that gun – and for a split second, to call your father but your stubborn 'Stark' side won over that one quickly; you weren't about to call for help if it wasn't needed.

You would use it if needed but first, you'd find out if you actually needed to.

Slowly, you left the drawer open, not wanting to cause any noise that'd alert the other to your presence, and stepped over to the door, mindful of the creaky floorboards and the light pouring underneath the door.

You paused just shy of the light and peered through the tiny peephole. There, you saw a young man with white-blonde hair and dark roots. His head was down so that was all you could see, but it was all you needed to, to make a definitive decision on what to do.

After all, why wouldn't you let Pietro Maximoff in?

Stepping back, you unlocked the multitude of locks – your father's idea – and opened the door, only to pause when you saw the state he was in.

Trying to play it off as causal, Pietro was leaning against the wall with his arms over his chest but it didn't take a genius to see he was keeping his whole weight on his right side. There was also what looked to be a dash of blood over his hip that he was trying to hide by turning subtly.

"Pietro?" You uttered without intending to form any other sentence, surprise voicing your thoughts, and almost without meaning to, Pietro looked up.

You just barely held back a gasp. His face was worse, so much worse.

Deep bruises and cuts littered his face, scars – old and new– were open and pouring blood. He looked as if he'd taken a couple of rounds with Rocky Balboa.

What had he been doing? Who's he fought? Why was he fighting?

You combed through your mind, trying to remember any past events that may have caused this; were there any new villains that needed to be dealt with? No, none that you could remember anyway. None that couldn't be dealt with by just one of the older Avengers anyway.

Wanda and Pietro, though on the side of the good, had been carefully watched ever since the incident concerning Ultron, both for their safety and others. Add in the fact that the twins were only twenty and it made for a group of strangely-protective-but-wary superheroes.

So you couldn't see how he'd gotten so injured. Unless your father wasn't telling you something.

You bit off the huff at that thought. You thought you'd finally gotten through to your father about keeping secrets like that; all you wanted to know was when he was going to fight off a super-powered bad-guy, and he had agreed to tell you if such a person ever came along.

You didn't like not knowing the danger your father was in, especially after the first battle of the Avengers. That still haunted you to this day.

Heaven forbid it ever happen again.

Suddenly remembering you weren't alone, you shook yourself inwardly and slipped the gun into the pocket of your housecoat. You could see, out of the corner of your eye, Pietro's eyes moving to watch it almost warily but he didn't say anything.

He knew, besides, you wouldn't hurt him.

"Come in and lay on the sofa," You ordered and with a pained chuckle you chose to ignore, Pietro stepped forward - only to fall forward as if losing all strength to keep himself up.

Fortunately, you caught him before he could crash to the floor. Unfortunately, you ended up crashing to the floor instead, with his heavy weight on top of you.

Briefly, there was a narrow of his eyes and brow before he seemed to realise he'd just fallen, and simply sighed.

You resisted the urge to panic. Sort of. Your breathing hitched and was coming out maybe a tad bit too fast, but you believed it wasn't as obvious as it could've been. Especially when your mind was going a mile a minute and it was suddenly incredibly hard to hear yourself think, let alone not panic.

You weren't sure what to do. Did you call for help, but who? Did you tend to his wounds, but how? Moving would only disturb him, which was the last thing you wanted. However, sitting there wasn't an option either. Sitting there meant he could die and- no.

Biting your lip, you glanced around. Where was your phone? Ah, on your coffee table, just out of reach. What about that wristwatch your father had made for you? He'd given it to you only just a week ago with the statement that it 'may not work properly but that's what you're here for'.

You'd rolled your eyes at him and called it an 'apple watch-wannabe', to which your father had huffed in indignation. You'd laughed at it but now, well, you suppose there's no better time to check it out than with the injured body of your crush in your lap.

A quick glance around brought your attention to the wristwatch, which was on top of the hallway drawer. Now, all you had to do was stretch a...little...just a little bit...more- there! You watched as it fell beside you with a dull thud, and grabbed it.

It was a finicky thing to use, unnecessarily difficult to open but once it was, you quickly opened the contact page, hitting your father's phone number.

"What's wrong?" was the first thing your father said, and if you hadn't been so tired and panicked, you may have rolled your eyes. As it was, you were very tired, which is why, when you opened your mouth, you rambled into panic mode:

"Dad, it's Pietro. He's injured and bleeding and I think there may actually be- oh, no, there's guts. God, I'm gonna throw up. I don't- I need-," You paused, preparing yourself before continuing, "I need your help. I don't know what I'm doing."

There was a moment of silence which lasted too long, and then your father spoke, "Come again."

You huffed. Really, he's going to do that now? He's such a child, honestly.

"Dad, I'm serious," You warned, "I'm scared. He's dying and I don't know what to do."

Your father sighed.

"Try and get him as comfortable as possible. I'll be there as soon as I can." He ordered, "And (Y/N)? Try and breathe."

You nodded, and then remembered this was a phone call and he wouldn't be able to see it.

"Yeah, alright. That's a good idea."

"Of course," Your father muttered, "See you soon."

You hesitated. You almost didn't want to hang up, but your father made the decision for you and hung up himself. Alright, it's fine. He's on his way. It'll be fine, everything will be fine.

Pietro groaned and you looked down. Okay, first thing's first, get him into a comfortable position. The couch was comfy and would be a good place to go, but maybe the bed was better. However, it was higher up. You needed somewhere you could drag Pietro to and lift up easily.

So then, the couch it was.

"I'm going to move you, alright?" You whispered in his ear, a little whine the only response you got, "I'll try and be careful."

Carefully, you manoeuvred him until you could stand. Placing your hands under his armpits, you slowly began to drag him back, pausing every time he so much as groaned. It took a while but the relief you felt when you finally saw Pietro on a softer surface, outweighed anything else you may have felt.

You looked down. Though you wished you could do something more. His forehead practically glistened with the amount of sweat produced. He was running a fever, and the longer you waited for your father, the worse he was going to get.

Maybe a wet clothe may help. Cool him down a bit, maybe. Something to make you feel useful at least.

So, blowing a piece of stubborn hair out of your face, you ignored it as it fell back into its original position and walked into the bathroom, grabbing a clean flannel and wetting it just enough. Once all the excess water had been squeezed out, you rushed back and knelt beside him, whispering soothing words as he groaned.

Softly, you began to dab the flannel on his forehead and took a moment to take in how tall he was. Almost too tall for the sofa, causing his legs to fall over the side limply. You wondered if you needed to get a larger sofa, but then that led to thoughts of this happening again and those weren't things you wanted to focus on.

One thing at a time.

After a while, Pietro became to cool down, so you decided to go and get your first aid kit. It may help your father, whenever he decided to show up.

Gently laying the flannel over his forehead, you stood and turned, only to stop when a hand gripped yours. You looked down t see Pietro open his mouth, a hacking cough interrupting whatever he was about to say.

You softly shushed him.

"I'm just going to get the first aid kit. I'll be back in a second."

Even if Pietro didn't want you to go, it wasn't as if he could stop you. His hand let go of yours, falling limply onto his stomach, and you watched as it caused a wince to sharpen his face. You turned away, not wanting to see the pain on his face, and rushed into the kitchen this time, slamming open cupboards to try and find your wayward first aid box.

You never knew where it was, despite putting it in the position in the first place. You never went to it enough to really think about it, which was a good thing, obviously but...

It was in the last cupboard you checked, of course. Dragging it out, you winced as a few things fell out of the half-opened bag but chose to clean them up later.

When you arrived back at his side, his eyes were still closed, wince still twisting his features, blood still flowing, except now there was an added furrow of his brows.

God, where are you, Dad?

Dropping to your knees, you tore the bag open, observed what you had, looked up and then remembered you needed to remove his shirt. Using all your strength, you ripped the fabric, which came apart easier than you thought it would (though not quite as easy as the films made it out to be).

The wound became visible quickly.

God, you wished you hadn't seen it. There was just so much blood and yeah, maybe even a little bit of guts. You thought you'd been exaggerating earlier, mind in full panic mode, but you were disheartened to realise that no, you hadn't been actually.

The urge to puke was strong but you managed to push past it, to focus on the situation at hand. Deal with this mess first before adding another. Though the more you shifted through the first aid kit, the more you realised maybe you weren't going to have a choice.

Nerves alone were making you feel nauseous.

You didn't know what you were doing. You've never treated wounds like this, never had reason to. Papercut wounds were nothing compared to this. This, this was a whole new level, like 'spilling guts all over the floor' type level.

You never thought you'd ever be in this type of situation. It was terrifying, to be honest, which was why, in a way, you were almost glad Pietro was unconscious. He didn't have to see you panic and flail like this.

Or puke, as that's what finally happened a second later.

Turning, you let everything out, nerves finally getting the best of you. It seemed to last forever and you were close to panicking when it finally stopped. You took large gulps of air in, trying to calm your racing heart and wishing you had a glass of water to soothe your sore throat.

God, where is your father?

You fell sideways, leaning against the sofa and let your head fall forward a little. You tried to control your breathing as best you could.

A knock at the window alerted you to your father's presence little more than ten minutes later. You startled, looking up and then instantly regretted it as your head begun to spin. You took deep breathes as you stood, stumbling your way over to the window and pushing it up with a soft thud.

"He told me he was alright. That's the only reason I let him on the mission." Your father told you without prompt. What was he going on about? You knew there'd been a mission, you remember telling your father to be careful during it, but you weren't aware Pietro had been there too.

Were they working together? And since when?

But it wasn't as if you could ask. You knew, if you opened your mouth, you would only be sick again, and your father seemed to realise that.

"Where is he?" Your father asked instead as he stepped in before taking another glance towards you, "Are you alright?"

You couldn't answer, not without possibly being sicker, so instead, you waved in Pietro's general, sweaty, pained direction and let your father handle it. He didn't bother trying to get a response out of you, just walked right over to the young man and began working on him.

About an hour later, your father finally stood up from the sofa. He turned to you, sweat wetting his slightly-furrowed brow but you could tell by the relieved look on his face that Pietro was healed. He was going to be alright.

You let out a relieved sigh and curled around yourself. Your father walked over, placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezing, making you look up.

"He'll be fine," He reassured with a soft smile. You nodded. Of course, he would be. Your father had just checked him and you trusted your father to know what he was doing. You trust your father a lot.

But that didn't stop you feeling bad. Pietro had been bleeding on the couch not that long ago, dying, from something you didn't know; and you hadn't known what to do. You'd sat there, panicked, puked and then watched as your father did all the work.

It could've gone wrong. Pietro could've died.

"-(Y/N)? Darling, look at me," Tony said and you snapped back to reality. "Come on, sit down over here." He took a hold of your hand and guided you over to one of the armchairs, gently pushing you own into it.

Once you were sitting, Tony disappeared into the kitchen after saying he was going to make some coffee, and you were left alone to stare at Pietro. He was breathing, his chest rising and falling softly but visibly. His lips parted a little.

He still looked to be in a little pain but he was alive. His wound was patched. He was alive. He was healing.

You suddenly felt the urge to grab his hand, to touch him. Carefully, you slid off the chair and crawled over until you could lean against the sofa, head falling onto it. You took Pietro's hand and took a much needed deep breath.

You could feel yourself relax a little now.

His hand was so warm. There'd been times in the past - many times, though you never liked to admit it - when you'd wondered how it'd feel to hold his hand. You'd always pictured it to be like this, warm and soft.

It never failed to bring a blush to your cheeks.

Though maybe you shouldn't be having such thoughts. Pietro was unconscious after suffering a massive injury and here you were, thinking of your crush on him and blushing like a schoolgirl.

Not that you could ever do anything about it. You definitely couldn't tell Pietro. You two were like acquaintances; Pietro treated you as such, anyway. Though you didn't help matters, disappearing whenever he appeared, regardless of what you had been previously doing; and when he tried talking to you, you'd always freeze up and just stare at him, all wide-eyed and silent.

You wouldn't be surprised if you'd freaked him out, even.

Why did you have to have a crush on this one? Why couldn't you have fallen in love wit-...? Love? But of course, you weren't in love. Not like that, at least. It was just a simple crush, nothing more. Just a silly little infatuation. Not...not that.

A gentle click on the coffee table startled you and you jerked in the direction of the noise, calming down only when you realised it was your father placing a mug down. You sent a confused look his way.

"One of those herbal teas you like. I found one in the cupboard," He explained, "You need rest and I hear this one may actually help with it."

You thanked him with a nod and a smile, and he leaned down to kiss you on top of the head.

"I'm going to get going but if you need me, call me." He ordered and for a split second, you felt panic try and claw its way up your throat. You couldn't be left with Pietro. What if something happened? But all he needed was rest. You could help him now; he was better.

So you nodded, promising you would, and watched him leave with bated breathe. You would be fine.

You looked back towards Pietro. He looked a little better now, actually. Peaceful even, in his sleep. You should get some sleep too. It'd been a...stressing night.

Though you couldn't just leave Pietro here like this. It was quite cold at night, and you didn't want him getting the flu over everything else as well.

There must be some blankets around her- ah! Over one of the armchairs was one, an old-styled thing that was far warmer than it looked. That would do nicely actually.

So, you stood carefully, making sure you were alright to move before doing so and grabbed the blanket. You wrapped Pietro up well, ensuring no skin was visible to the cold, and then, with one more glance over him, you walked off to the bedroom- or tried anyway.

A hand stopped you with a weak grip and you looked down to see Pietro, looking up at you as his hand gripped yours. He was looking up at you, though you weren't sure it was you he was looking at. His eyes were glazed over.

He didn't say anything, just continued to stare. You felt a little nervous.

What did you do? What was he going to do? What if he moved and irritated the wound? You had to calm him before he did, that was obvious, but how? You weren't the best at soothing others, especially not injured speedrunners who didn't even seem to be awake.

Then Pietro blinked and he seemed to gain a bit of recognition in his eyes because he then smiled. You were just about to smile back when instead, you yelped as he yanked you down with surprising strength for one so dazed.

You hit his chest with a harsh thud and winced. Oh god, what did you just hit? You tried to scramble off of him, gently but also quickly, only for him to wrap his arms around you and bury his face further into your hair.

He refused to let you go, even if it meant you were possibly lying on the wound. You almost wanted to smack him for how ridiculous he was being, but then remembered he was probably too oblivious and doped up on medicine to really care.

Still, you weren't comfortable like this and you didn't want to hurt him further, so you gently pushed away from him. He still wouldn't let you go.

"Pietro, let me- god, let me go," You tried, though you weren't sure he even heard, muffled as you were against his chest. You were starting to get impatient because as much as you pictured lying on his chest often, you didn't want it to be like this.

You just wanted to sleep, in your bed preferably, and to deal with all of this in the morning. Pietro also needed rest, a lot of it actually, so he could heal better.

God, why wasn't he letting go? Did he even know you were still here? Had he fallen asleep at some point? Now that you thought about it, his breathing did seem lighter.

Carefully, you shifted until you could look up at him and saw his eyes were shut. He was actually asleep. He'd fallen back to sleep, hugging you like a child to their safety blanket.

You sighed and let your chin fall atop his side, though careful not to put any more pressure on his wound. Well, looks like you're not going anywhere tonight.

So, giving up, you got comfortable, wrapped an arm over his torso and not to feel so guilty that deep down, you were a little happy at the situation. This was the first and last time you'll ever get this close to him, let alone ever have another chance to hug him. You couldn't help but want to take any chance you could get.

And Pietro seemed to relax more when you finally did, his lips quirking a little. He didn't open his eyes though, so you assumed he was still asleep.

Maybe all he wanted was a comfort in his time of pain and discomfort.

Well, it's not as if you can go anywhere, so you're here now. So you closed your eyes and listened to his breathing, letting it calm you.

At some point, his arm slipped off you but you didn't move. You stayed, arm still over him, and eventually drifted off to sleep yourself.

___ You were on the sofa when you woke up, the next day. A soft blanket trapped warmth around you and a quick glance over it showed it was the one you had put over Pietro. Speaking of... Your mind hadn't quite caught up as you shot upwards, glancing around you to find the wayward speedrunner. Where was he? Why was he not here? Was last night just a dream? But why were you on the couch then, and not in bed? You looked down at the coffee table. No, it couldn't have been a dream. The mug your father had made was still there, filled with cold tea, as well as the first aid box. So where was he? Just then, Pietro came walking in, a wince permanent on his face and holding a cup in his hand. He paused when he saw you and then carried on, practically falling into the armchair as soon as he neared in. There was an almost heavy silence, though maybe that was just you. What did you say? Did he even remember last night? Oh god, what did he think when he woke up to you hugging him? He must've felt so awkward. Though why hadn't he left? Well, he was injured. Maybe he needed help. But why hadn't he woken you up then? God, you felt so awkward and confused right now. What do you do?! Well, maybe you should start by apologising to him, about the hugging first; and if he remembered last night, about not being able to help him too. He'd trusted you and you had panicked. Yeah, apologise and then... then something. You still weren't sure. So, coming back to reality, you turned- and immediately froze when you realised just how close Pietro was. How had he gotten here so fast? Oh, wait. Speedrunner. Though he shouldn't be moving so fast, he was still in pain. And why was he so close?! You jumped when you felt a calloused thumb slowly dig into your bottom lip, pulling it down until it came free from the teeth biting down on it. You hadn't even realised you were biting it. Pietro seemed enraptured by it though, eyes seemingly stuck on your lip and his thumb, and you blushed. Now, what do you do? Did you push him away? Did you want to? Maybe you should. He probably didn't even realise what he was doing. You moved back, only to freeze and watch as he followed. You let him carry on with his inspection without even meaning to. Why did he look so fascinated? It was only your lip. After what felt like forever, he finally moved away and you released a breath you hadn't realised you'd been holding- only to gasp when his lips crashed into yours. It wasn't a graceful kiss by any means but god, did it feel like fireworks had suddenly gone off. You would've kissed back if you hadn't short-circuited. What was going on? Was he really kissing you? Since when?! Why?! Did he know what he was doing? Because you couldn't think of a reason as to why he was doing it in the first place. Pietro kissed deeper and you realised that yes, he did know what he was doing. Very much so actually. Hesitantly, you kissed back. It was as if your lips had gone numb, moving them felt awkward but Pietro didn't seem to mind. Which was good because as you slowly gained more confidence, so did the kiss until you were suddenly in his lap. You weren't sure when he'd even sat down, let alone when you had moved. You didn't care though. Things were heating up and you didn't want to break it. Hands trailed along any bits of naked skin, though remained mindful of any wounds. Lips latched onto a lightly-stubbled chin and lean neck. You could feel his back arch as you sucked at a certain spot- and then he hissed. And you realised just what you were doing. Gasping, you fell backwards, barely missing the coffee table. You quickly scanned him, checking to see if the wound had bled through his bandages and shirt. It didn't look like it but you didn't want to go near him again, just in case. You looked up, eyes wide. "I'm so sorry! I forgot about your wounds, I wouldn't have carried this on if-." Pietro stopped you with a quick peck on the lips. You felt a little dazed as he pulled away and he chuckled at the dreamy look on your face. "It's fine, really, (Y/N). If anyone's at fault, it's me for starting it." He reassured. "Though, that's not to say I didn't like it." One of his eyebrows raised suggestively and you blushed. You playfully glared and stuck your tongue out. "So, um," You hesitated. So now what? Did that kiss mean something? Did you just go about your life and forget it ever happened? You weren't sure you could but you would try if Pietro wanted that. Should you ask? You did need to know after all, but did you really want to know? Maybe he's just delirious from the medicine and the pain. Just ask, and if it does turn out to be a random kiss.... oh well. "Um, so I-I-" You paused, controlling your breath. Don't stutter! "- I was wondering, um, what- ugh, what I'm trying to say is - well, ask - is, um-." At this rate, you weren't going to get anything out. Why was it so hard to just ask a simple question? Thankfully, Pietro stopped you with a finger to the lips. "Yes." was all he said. What? Yes what? Pietro smiled in exasperation. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulled you closer. "Yes, you are my partner." You gaped, seemingly unable to close it in your shock. You were- you were really- so this wasn't a joke? Wasn't a pleasant dream you're about to wake up from? You were his partner, Pietro Maximoff's partner. He really wanted you. You practically beamed at the thought, and yet still, a mischievous side - the Stark side of you - decided to make an appearance. Finally closing your mouth, you crossed your arms and jutted your chin a little. "And if I don't want to be your girlfriend?" You said with a little grin. He chuckled and leaned in carefully. There was a little wince still there on his face but the pin didn't stop him from pecking you on the lips. "Every girl wants to be my girlfriend." He cheekily smirked and you smirked, unable to disagree. You leaned in, breath teasing his skin. "You cheeky arse." You muttered and Pietro chuckled. "You love me really." "Yeah, I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! :D  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. :D
> 
> Here's my [Tumblr](https://ladycookiecupcake.tumblr.com)


	8. healing you | pietro maximoff (smut ending)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> if you want badly written, probably awkward-as-hell smut, then you've come to the right place! xD  
> all i can say is sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally published;; 05/05/2016  
> sort of-edited;; 17/01/2020

You couldn't believe it! You were now officially Pietro's girlfriend, and it all began with him coming to your flat, injured.

Well, that's one way to get a boyfriend, you thought sarcastically, half-listening to the TV, half-thinking. Some show was on, though you weren't sure what was going on, your mind clouded with thoughts about earlier on.

After Pietro announced you were now his girlfriend, you demanded he take a shower and then you'd dress his wounds. He was still currently in the shower, though you were sure he was taking a little longer than necessary.

_Maybe I should go check on him._

He could be unconscious for all you know, or maybe it was hard to shower, what with the wounds. You bit your bottom lip, worrying it to the point of nearly bleeding, and then you decided.

Standing up, you laid the TV remote beside you and stood up, walking out of the living room and to the bathroom. Making sure to knock loud enough for him to hear you, you waited for a response, and when none came, you called out, "Pietro!"

Still, nothing came, and worried, you hurriedly opened the door- only to be met with an unexpected sight, though one that wasn't unpleasant. He was standing there, in the shower, leaning against the wall. His back was arched slightly, eyes screwed shut and mouth parted a little in a silent gasp. One hand was clenched tightly in a fist, arm thrown across his forehead, while the other hand worked his hardened length.

Upon hearing the door open, his eyes snapped open and he looked over at you, wide and startled, as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have been- and in a way, he had been. Your mouth gaped open, closed, gaped open, and then closed again, deciding to keep it shut this time, frightened to find out what other noises may come out instead of words.

You were unsure of what to do though. Should you apologise? You had walked in a private moment of his but in all fairness to yourself, you hadn't known this was a private moment. You hadn't expected him to be doing such a thing, and in your own bathroom, in your shower nonetheless. So...

"U-umm," You squeaked out, coughed and then tried again, "I'm going to- I'm just gonna, um, leave....Bye."

Then you walked out, quickly shutting the door behind you. You felt hot and bothered suddenly, the image of him working himself still fresh in your mind, and oh god! He was injured, you should not be having such thoughts!

_Seriously, I did not agree to this!_

*****

You sat there, on your bed, the covers flown over you, pressed tightly into your sides. Your eyes stared wide up at the ceiling above you. The image of Pietro, wet and naked, just wouldn't leave your head, and you were so close to screaming.

_I just want to sleep, is that so much to ask for?_

The glisten of pale skin, eyes screwed shut in pleasure, mouth opened for a silent gasp, tight-muscled body under the wet droplets-. Alright then, apparently it is too much to ask for. You huffed and turned on your side, letting your arm fall onto the other side. You dreaded closing your eyes, the image popping up the second you did so, but you needed sleep. You had to get up early tomorrow, and the last thing you wanted — and needed — was to fall asleep every couple of minutes because you never slept the night before.

So you closed your eyes and tried to focus on something else; you thought about what you were going to do tomorrow, about the people you may be meeting, focusing a little on their faces, their voices, and slowly, you felt yourself relax, your muscles becoming less tense and your eyes becoming more heavy. You were just about to sleep... and then-.

"Y/N? You awake?"

Your eyes snapped open, and you turned half-way, body twisting a little to look, and then you sat up when you saw the figure was there. Instantly you were met with the limping figure of Pietro, who didn't bother waiting for a reply, walking over to you anyway.

Sitting down on the bed by your feet, he was silent, to which you were as well. You weren't sure what to say, or what he wanted, and after that shower incident - and oh look, there's the image you've been trying to ignore -, everything was just awkward. You knew seeing his naked body shouldn't be something odd or awkward; after all you two were now dating, it's just... **.**

Subconsciously, you bit your lip, eyes downcast into your lap. You were unaware of Pietro looking up, and therefore unaware of the way his eyes seemed to zoom into your bitten lip. You only realised he was even looking at you when you looked up and noticed how close his sparkling eyes actually were.

You startled backwards, only to hit the headboard. He followed you until he was leaning over you, his arms holding himself up on either side of you, his face mere inches from your own.

Your breath hitched and you felt the sudden urge to lean forward and capture his lips with yours. Your eyes flew down to his lips, memorised by the way they moved- wait, they were moving closer! You opened your mouth, unsure what the words were even going to be, but you weren't given the chance to find out, his lips pausing any words from coming out.

His lips moved and without another thought, you followed. Your hands moved to his shoulders, hesitant but surprisingly eager as the kiss got more heated, and wrapped your arms around his neck. You shifted until you were on your knees, the covers sliding off, and you carefully brought him closer, mindful of his wounds you had dressed the second he'd come out of the shower, (after which you'd raced to your room and never left it since).

As you carefully pushed him down on the other side of the bed, you didn't break contact from the kiss, biting his lip for access which he happily gave. You slipped your tongue in easily, exploring every inch of his mouth, and carefully straddled his waist. The kiss got hotter and hotter with each passing second, and you slowly began to rock your lower half into his, feeling yourself get a little wet with each rock.

You could feel the fabric of your pyjamas touching, and it annoyed you. You so desperately wanted him to be naked, to have him inside of you. You'd dreamed of this to the first moment you two met, and despite the guilt you felt for fantasizing about him whenever you pleasured yourself, you couldn't help but wish for it, and now it was happening and god, was it going great. The only trouble being, the clothes.

Pietro suddenly rocked upwards, pressing his hardened dick into your pussy, your knickers the only thing preventing him from slipping in. You growled, both in lust and annoyance at the prevention, and reluctantly pulled away. You quickly slid off of him, standing up to tug your night clothes off. Once you finished, you watched as Pietro followed suit, tugging off his bloodied jeans. As he reached his top, he had to pause, obviously trying to stop the wince coming but having no luck.

You paused.

"You know, we don't have to do this now. Actually, we really shouldn't do this now. You're injured and-," You spoke, quickly talking yourself out of this.

Why did you pounce on him like that anyway? He's injured and no matter what he may say or do, he couldn't prove to you otherwise. He needed the rest, you could always do this another day...if he wanted to, of course.

Hating yourself for rushing into it, you bent down to pick your pyjamas back up, only to be stopped by Pietro, who dragged you back on top of him. He winced a little but didn't let the pain stop him.

"No. I want this. Now. Right now, with you." Then he sat up and kissed you again- or tried to, were it not for you moving back a little.

"No! You're injured! You need-!" You tried to get out, to get through into his head, but he wasn't having any of it. Pushing you down beside him, he quickly straddled your hips, intertwining his legs with yours to prevent any escaping. You huffed, struggling to get out of his strength.

You hated this! He needed rest! Why won't he list-?

Unexpectedly, he rocked into you, thrusting his hardened length against your wet pussy, startling a shaky gasp out of you. You gripped his shoulders without thinking, your nails digging into his skin and leaving behind little crescent-shaped marks.

He hissed and it took a moment for you to realise it was a hiss of pleasure, rather than pain. He continued to thrust forward, causing jolt after jolt of pleasure to burn in you.

All too quickly, you felt the building pressure release and you cried out as you clenched tightly.

"Pietro!"

The cry of his name was what pushed him over the edge and you could feel when he finally let go, his cum dripping down your pussy and thighs. He leaned forward, almost collapsing were it not for his arms either side of your head.

You both panted, breathless with the aftershocks and lingering pleasure. Pietro looked beautiful above you and you leaned up to kiss him, mouth capturing his in a breathless kiss.

He was so beautiful, always had been, and nothing would change that.

Pietro's hands moved to grip your hips, tightening as he began moving his lower half once more. He was rutting against you again and you would've laughed at how quickly you got back into the mood, were it not for the distracting pleasure building with each thrust of friction.

Slowly, Pietro moved until he was on his back and you were on top of him, your positions reversed. You carefully began to rub against him, mindful of his injured body still, and nibbled greedily at his bottom lip, relishing in the tiny little gasps and stutters he released.

It was truly amazing how you managed to bring him to such pleasure, this beautiful man, who could have anyone he wanted — wanting you, loving you, finding you attractive. You felt so lucky to have him.

You trailed down his nail, nipping gently at his kiss and soothing the soft sting with butterfly kisses. He was rutting against you harder now, thrusting up eagerly, and you realised you couldn't wait either.

You had to have him in you.

Now.

Pulling back, you hushed him as he whined, following after your retreating lips almost blindly.

You lifted yourself over his lap, leaning on your knees so you could reach behind yourself. Grasping him, you guided him directly below you and pushed yourself down. The burn quickly followed and you couldn't hold back the wince.

Right, you forgot preparation. Turns out one climax still wasn't enough to soothe the pain. Still, you weren't going to back out now. You wanted him, right this instant, and you weren't going to let a little bit of pain stop that.

Pietro looked up, worry twisting his features into a frown, and you could see how much effort it took him to release your hip and place his hand on your cheek. You smiled down at him, rubbing his hand reassuringly.

"I'm fine, love. Wasn't expecting the...," You struggled with a word to find before just settling on, "fullness, is all."

Pietro smirked and you rolled your eyes.

Leaning forward, you captured his lips with your own and distracted yourself with the kiss as you slowly began to move. It started to get easier with each move and you could feel the pressure build more and more in you.

Pietro thrust up, deeper and deeper, harder and faster, and soon you were both moving to meet one another, moans and cries of one another's names mixing together.

You trailed rushed kiss after rushed kiss down his face and neck and back up again, over every inch of skin you could get. You could feel his breath brush hotly against your flamed skin, tickling you. You shivered- and then you felt it.

"I-I'm gonna-!" That was all the warning you could give before your vision whitened out and you felt yourself let go the second time that night. Pietro quickly leaned up and wrapped a hand around your neck, bringing you down and cutting off your cry with a heated kiss.

"(Y/N)." Your name, whispered, was the last noise you heard before Pietro, too, finally came. He continued to thrust upwards, riding out the aftershocks, until he finally slowed down.

He extracted himself from you, sliding out of you with a wet noise and you fell sideways, blissfully boneless. You panted against his skin as you cuddled into him, his am quickly wrapping itself around you.

You had just had sex. With Pietro.

You just had sex with Pietro Maximoff.

With your new boyfriend, Pietro Maximoff.

You smiled and placed a gentle kiss against his chest, not minding the sweat that now clung to his skin. So much for that shower, huh.

Lifting your head, you placed your chin on his chest and stared up at him. He stared back, eyes alight with love and happiness, and you blushed.

"I love you." You blurted out, eyes going wide the second you realised what you just said. You felt the urge to apologise but didn't. You wouldn't apologise for how you felt, not about this, especially not about this.

Even if this is just a one-time thing — the relationship was just a 'let's-see-how-things-go-for-now' thing —, you had to say it. You didn't want to hold back and later regret saying the one thing that, in the end, may have been the thing to help it.

To your upmost delight, however, Pietro seemed happy, his face lit up like a child at Christmas, and he leaned in for another kiss.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to hear that." He says, breathlessly against your lips. "I love you too, so much."

You beamed and snuggled back into him- only to freeze when you felt the flinch wreak through his body underneath you. You stepped back quickly, suddenly remember the wounds on his body, the ones that had yet to heal — the reason you had stopped earlier.

Annoyed at yourself for forgetting, you turned to him and glared, rolling your eyes at the sheepish smile he gave you. Huffing, you stepped out of bed and into your bathroom, calling out "Next time I say rest, you rest!"

Pietro just grinned a goofy, cheeky grin, happiness like no other allowing him to relax. He was so glad to have you as his girlfriend (and hopefully, later on in life, his wife).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! :D  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. :D
> 
> Here's my [Tumblr](https://ladycookiecupcake.tumblr.com)


	9. overreaction | pietro maximoff (ft. father!tony stark)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally published;; 26/10/2016  
> edited;; 26/10/2016
> 
> there's a tiny little lime in here, as well.

Upon opening your eyes, you realised one thing — there was nothing like waking up to the one you loved.

Pietro had such a peaceful sleepy face, his eyelids fluttering against pale skin but otherwise staying shut. He looked so goddamn cute while asleep too. It should be illegal to look this cute, awake or asleep.

You smiled as you turned your head, resting your chin on his chest. You watched him, aware of every little move he made, aware of the urge it created inside you, to kiss away every little frown, kiss every little twitch of his nose — just kiss him, really.

You _really_ wanted to kiss him.

Leaning in, you placed a gentle kiss on his lips, barely a brush against him. It shouldn't have woken him and yet it did.

Pulling away, you became away his eyes — now wide open and very much aware — were following you, taking you in despite the slightly glazed-over look they held. You chuckled.

"Morning," You grinned.

His eyelashes fluttered shut almost subconsciously before they opened once more, wider this time, more awake. He smiled a tired smile and whispered back the same response.

"You look cute when you sleep," You muttered against his cheek, brushing lips against soft skin in mimed kisses. You loved the little rumble his deep chuckle made and you shivered at the seductive sound, remembering memories of the night before and the other noises he made.

Your cheeks heated into a bright red and you felt Pietro chuckle again, this time one of amusement instead of seductiveness. You decided now was probably the right time to start getting up.

Sticking your tongue out at him, you slipped away from him and out of bed. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Pietro reach out for you but you were too far out of his reach to stop you.

"Come back to bed," Pietro whined, "It's too cold to be awake."

You rolled your eyes and grabbed your housecoat, slipping it on and tying it up closed.

"Can't. Have a meeting today and I promised Dad I'd meet him before."

A low whine came from the bed and you threw a cushion at the lump Pietro was making — he was under the covers again. An ' _hmpf_ ' could be heard when cushion made contact with lump.

"Get up, Pietro. Don't you have anything to do today?" You asked as you began picking out your outfit for the day. It was a simple meeting, nothing fancy but you still had to make a good first impression. Maybe you could dig out that chocolate-brown suit your father had brought you a year or so ago. He has been asking about it...

You gasped as you felt someone behind you, their ice-cld hands pulling your housecoat down your shoulders, lips slowly caressing your skin. You shivered as those lips continued their kisses as his hands trailed down to your hips.

Pietro pushed his front into your back and you could feel his excitement pressing against your back.

You bit your lip to stop the moan that threatened to come out. You almost failed when you felt his breath move to your ear, warm on flushed skin.

"Well, I know someone I'd like to do." Pietro whispered and nibbled gently at your ear. You couldn't hold it back this time — you moaned, loud and clear, and bucked against his hardening length.

Pietro chuckled breathlessly in your ear, moaning alongside as you caused more friction to rub against him. You forgot about the suit and turned in his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer.

Lips captured lips in heated passion and you felt the beginnings of warmth stir in the pit of your stomach. You released one arm to trail down his chest, feather-like touches leaving goose-pimples behind until your fingers finally reached their destination — the large bulge.

You palmed his erection and his mouth opened in a breathless moan.

"O-oh, don't stop," He begged and you obeyed, rubbing harder before wrapping your fingers around him. You began pumping up and down, feeling his fingers grip your hips tighter, so tight you were sure there'd be bruises after.

Just the thought almost brought you to the edge.

The idea that there'd be marks left behind, to show others who you belonged to... You shivered at the same time Pietro was pushed over the edge himself, his seed spilling over your hand.

You followed not long after. You continued to rub him through the aftershocks as yours slowly died down, leaving you both panting.

Pietro leaned down and gave you another kiss.

"I'm so lucky to have you," He muttered.

"I know."

Pietro chuckled and leaned in for yet another kiss- and it was then the door to your room slammed open.

"(Y/N), I've made those little pancakes you lik- _what_ are you doing to my daughter?" Your father's voice burst into the room, his tone a pitch higher in it's incredulous. You froze, eyes widening as reality seemed to slow down and then stop.

Your father...your father was in your flat, your room, while you were naked, _Pietro_ was naked.

_While you were both panting and recovering from post-orgasm, covered in come._

You almost whimpered at the embarrassment you felt and wanted nothing more than to bury your face into Pietro's chest, never to see the light of day again. Of course, you couldn't though.

Taking a deep breath, you made sure your housecoat was back up over your shoulders and closed before turning to face your father. A sheepish grin was on your face.

A look of pure horror was on your father's face, his mouth open in shock as his eyes swept to you then Pietro and back again. He pointed at you, his finger shaking in its uncertainty on who to stay on, and then-

"Oh my god! My eyes! They're _burning_!"

You huffed, folding your arms over your chest as Tony practically ran from the room, his hands rubbing at his eyes like he'd just witnessed a murder or something.

Your father was such a child.

"Well," Pietro muttered, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, "That could've gone...bad."

You pinched the bridge of your nose, your eyes slipping closed.

Children, you were surrounded by children.

"Just get dressed, Pietro." You ordered before stepping into the bathroom to wash up quickly. You would get dressed in a moment; first see what your father was here for, then clothes.

_At least the meeting with Dad's been checked off the list. Don't need to rush about so much now,_ you tried to reason with yourself, ignoring all the other problems this caused.

Like how your father would react when he realised you and Pietro were actually _together_ , and not just fucking.

Once you were rid of any of your previous situation's evidence, you stepped into the kitchen to see him busily dealing with the pancakes, pointedly ignoring you when you entered.

_Ah, so we're going with the silent treatment_ , you thought and sat down at the small dining table in the kitchen, _all right then. He'll crack eventually._

And crack he did.

Exactly a minute after you entered. You hadn't even gotten the chance to start nitpicking at the kitchenware or the loose thread of your housecoat, it'd been that quick.

Tony whirled around, pointing the spatula at you like one would a gun — or a shield. His eyes were narrowed, suspicion and worry warring with one another, and you waited for the comment he was clearing debating whether to say or not.

Of course, he had to say it.

"Really?" He asked and you rolled your eyes, standing and walking to the kettle. Flipping that on, you leaned against the counter and nodded.

"Yes, really, Dad."

"Yeah but... _really_?"

You glared.

"He's not a bad man, dad."

Tony's hands flew up in a surrendering manner.

"I know! I know, sweetheart. He's a man I trust with my life." He explained and you new it to be the truth, as proven the night before. Even when he hadn't expected him, he still worried when he realised just how hurt Pietro was.

Tony Stark was a man with a heart too big for his chest but so few ever saw that.

"I just don't trust him with my daughter's."

You rolled your eyes. He just has to ruin it, huh?

The kettle whistled its final tune and you pushed off the counter, grabbing three cups and throwing way too much coffee into one. You needed it if you had to deal with both Pietro and your father in one morning.

"Will you trust anyone?"

Tony's mouth opened as if to actually answer that with a proper question, and then he paused- and shook his head silently.

_Nobody will win first place, Dad's made sure of that. So Pietro will just have to try coming second at least. Prove he can look after me, prove we can look after each other._

Once the cups were ready, you brought Pietro's and yours back to the table, pointing to your father's to show him the cup. Tony didn't even realise, too busy looking past you and into the hallway where both of you could hear Pietro coming out.

His footsteps were hesitant. He was clearly procrastinating, which was made even more obvious when you knew how fast he could move, even when walking.

"Come and get your tea before it gets cold!" You called, the footsteps stopped and then a sigh could be heard before Pietro appeared. You smiled and pointed to the steaming cup.

Pietro took it with a grateful nod and sat down beside you. He was just about to give you a kiss on the cheek when you both heard a growl — or an attempt at least — in front of you.

You both turned to see Tony glaring at Pietro, once again waving that spatula like a shield and weapon. Unlike it's last 'victim', however, it actually looked to have finally worked its purpose.

Pietro looked downright terrified.

"Oi! No funny business, Mr. Flash!"

Pietro nodded so quickly, you were surprised he hadn't snapped his neck. You reached over and placed a hand on the back of his neck, rubbing it soothingly. You smiled when he relaxed under your touch.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see your father look between the two of you, as if to trying to see _something_ that would get Pietro in trouble, and when that obviously didn't work he huffed and turned away, back to the currently-burning pancake.

He squeaked — 'a manly gasp', he would later deny — and focused his attention entirely on pancake-making.

With your father distracted, you leaned in and placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

'Love you,' You mouthed against his skin and he smiled, swapping another kiss and the same words for your own smile.

Even if your father was annoyed now, you were sure he wouldn't be forever. Eventually, he'd have to learn to love Pietro; it was, after all, very hard not to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! :D  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. :D
> 
> Here's my [Tumblr](https://ladycookiecupcake.tumblr.com)


	10. safe and sound | captain america

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You're taken by the bad guys._
> 
> _Captain America isn't too happy about that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally published;; 24/05/2018  
> edited;; 05/01/2020

You were trained for this sort of thing. The first thing you were taught was how to suffer through the pain quietly. After all, an Agent has secrets to keep, and the last thing S.H.I.E.L.D wants is one of their own Agents to go tattle-telling one of those secrets.

So, of course the first thing they teach you is how to take your mind off of the pain and place it somewhere else; and honestly, it had worked so far. Every kick, every punch, every slap, every shout were nothing to you, just mindless background noise.

The amount of pain the beatings caused was nothing to the image you had in your head, of your beautiful husband - Steve Rogers, otherwise known as Captain America.

It was of your wedding night. As everyone had partied inside, you and Steve had walked outside to watch the setting sun, his arms wrapped protectively around you as you laid your head back, leaning against his shoulder. That night had been so wonderful, so peaceful and happy; that memory always calmed you.

It had been the perfect distraction for the past...well, however long you've been here. You lost count after forty-eight hours. You didn't mind though, because, during that time, you've had Steve by you.

You could do this.

(You tried to ignore any negative thoughts of doubt that tried to wiggle their way into your mind; you didn't need reminders, thank you.)

The sound of a door slamming against the wall echoed throughout the cell suddenly, and not expecting it, you startled, eyes snapping open as a light gasp uttered from behind your lips. You quickly clenched your jaw tight, glaring at the man who sat in the corner, watching in sadistic pleasure at your torture.

The man who had just entered the room stalked his way over to the man in front of you, and although you could not see him (for there was very little light in here), you were sure he was glaring at you.

You closed your eyes, resisting the urge to roll your eyes, and tried to calm your racing heartbeat at the sudden sound just now.

"Boss is wondering what's takin' ya so long." The man growled out, as he continued to glare down at your twitching form. No amount of distractions could prevent the twitches, unfortunately.

"Tell 'im it shouldn't be any longer. They're startin' to break now, can't ya see?" The man sneered before a fist collided with your cheek, forcing your head in the opposite direction. You bit your bottom lip hard, and when you began to taste the coppery taste of blood, you bit harder. You needed this pain, it took your mind off of the idiots in front of you.

Honestly, did they think you weren't going to be saved? You had a Super Soldier for your husband, for Christ's sake! If he isn't already near, he's at least halfway by now. You're sure of it; you had both promised each other you'd always save each other, after all, and neither of you were intending to break that promise.

The two men in front of you mumbled the rest of their conversation, but you didn't care. Instead you were focusing on the pain as a distraction, and then suddenly the man who had come in earlier was gone, leaving behind the two other men to carry on with their 'work'.

There was silence for a second, the type that almost deafens you, and then a huff was all that alerted you before the tightly-curled fist collided into your chest.

*****

"Agent Y/Kamski will be fine, Captain." Phil Coulson tried to reassure, but the Captain wasn't having it. It had been fifty hours since his partner was kidnapped, and still, nobody had found them yet. It was like they had been shipped off to some alien planet rather than Earth, their location just nonexistent.

Agent Coulson sighed as he took in the hard expression Captain America's face was set in. It was twisted with fierce determination; he was set upon finding his spouse one way or another, but everybody could see the hurt, the fear, the pain.

Everybody could, but none more so than Phil Coulson, who was watching the man he admired silently crumble in front of him. He felt completely helpless because seeing his hero slowly fall was worsened by not being able to find one of his best agents.

Suddenly Steve shot upwards, standing from the chair so quickly, the chair fell down with a loud thud. His face was still set in that hard expression as he turned and stormed out, not bothering to say anything.

Agent Coulson watched as Natasha Romanoff stood up, ready to follow him. The others stared after him with gaping mouths, and he quickly held a hand up to the female agent, silently asking for her to calm down. She looked over at him, gave him a hard stare before sighing silently and obeying his demand.

Agent Coulson let him walk off, did not go after him and did not let anyone else go after him, because he knew that look, knew that fierce determination. It's the look of a hero that's about to do something stupid, and as much as he wants to believe his hero wouldn't, Coulson cannot reprimand him for it...well, now, anyway.

*****

They left you alone an hour after the other man left.

The man who was beating you left you tied up, laying on the floor, twitching ever-so-slightly, as the man who seemed to get sadistic pleasure from watching you get tortured walked out as well.

The second the door was slammed shut, there was just silence, but one you didn't really mind. Your thoughts clouded your mind as soon as the silence began, yes, and that was kind of a pain but you didn't mind because silence meant free from the pain.

You were slowly breaking, as much as you hated to admit it. You were so very ready to just scream, to tell them everything, but you couldn't- you wouldn't.

These secrets they wanted, they weren't going to get.

You were going to be strong...or die trying.

Your eyes slipped closed as you let your head fall backwards, onto the cold hard ground beneath you. Your body ached but the coldness from the floor eventually seeped in, freezing the pain until your whole body was just numb.

You couldn't feel a thing, which made it a lot easier to just drift off- but your idiotic torturers didn't seem to want that; they couldn't give you peace even from behind the door, could they?

Clenching your jaw, you willed yourself to open your eyes, hating how hard that simple act was becoming and listened for the noise. They were shouting. Why?

Someone was louder than the rest, and although you couldn't hear much, there was one sentence that was clearer than the rest; 'he's here', and it was that sentence that brought the first smile in ages onto your face.

You knew who 'he' was, the same man who had vowed to you on your wedding day that he will always be there for you, always protect you and love you.

The panic started becoming clearer in their voices, but you didn't care, the image of your beloved husband appearing in your mind and calming your racing heartbeat.

You were finally saved.

As their shouts soon turned into screams of fear, you couldn't help but wonder two things; one, were they trying to give you a massive headache?; and two, their 'Boss' really couldn't get better followers, could they?

As quickly as they came, the screams disappeared until there was once again just silence, this time peaceful though. You waited, heart-pounding, and when you saw the door open to reveal the muscular figure of your husband, everything seemed to wash out of you, your tense, frozen limbs relaxing almost painfully.

He rushed over to you, instantly kneeling down and dropping his shield to gently shift you into his arms. A small whimper escaped your mouth as he moved you, and he paused, softly muttering sweet nothings to sooth you.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N). I should have been here sooner-." As much as it hurt, you lifted a hand and placed it on his cheek, smiling up at him. You wanted to soothe him, as much as you could because he was here now, that was all that mattered.

He was here now.

Without even having to mutter those words, he knew and Steve smiled.

He was here now, you were in his arms and it was alright. You were safe and sound in his arms. Steve pressed a kiss on top of your head, and you snuggled your head deeper into his chest.

Yes, you were safe now. You would always be safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! :D  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. :D
> 
> Here's my [Tumblr](https://ladycookiecupcake.tumblr.com)


	11. confronting a fear | father!tony stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt_ \- 'personal experience' through or with your 'favourite character'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> father!tony stark & child!reader
> 
> orignally published;; 23/05/2018  
> edited; 06/01/2020

~~~

Ducks were terrifying, absolutely and completely terrifying. Their quacks seemed to echo in your mind, like some horror-movie worthy lullaby, and as they swam about idly, you had the sudden, heart-pounding fear that maybe, just maybe, they were suddenly going to come racing over at you, quacking as they ran like hell on webbed feet.

Yes, you were scared. Absolutely, but trying to tell your father about that little fact was proving to be a difficult situation. Every time you shook your head or tried to pull your hand free or drag him away with you, Tony would just shake his own head and pull you harder towards the menacing swimmers.

"Please, daddy." You tried, but he wouldn't listen. He seemed too intent on putting you through hell by confronting the ducks.

He knew of your fear. That was partially the reason he had decided to take you to the local beautiful park - the other reason being that you had begged him nonstop until he agreed.

He wanted you to confront those fears, get rid of them while you were still young, and he wanted you to do that by passing some bread to the ducks, but you didn't want to- well you did, but you didn't... It was confusing, alright! You just wanted to get away from the ducks, was that so much to ask for?

Suddenly, Tony stopped and turned, kneeling down beside you, causing you to stop tugging his hand. You froze as you stared wide-eyed up at him, into that half-annoyed, half-reassuring look of his.

"Honey, how about we make an agreement?" He asked, and your eyes immediately lit up at the opportunity to make a deal, because usually, it meant either ice cream or spending more time with your father, both of which were good enough for you.

You nodded, waiting for him to reply, and Tony smiled.

"How about you throw some bread at the ducks and then we'll get some ice cream?" He suggested and you didn't waste any time in nodding your head, a huge smile beaming brightly onto your face.

Your father gave a tiny smile back and stood up again, holding his hand out to you, which you took hesitantly. Taking a deep breath, you slowly walked over to the lake, going just a little closer than you'd like.

Still, no amount of ice cream would prepare you for what happened next.

As the ducks neared you, your heart pounded hard in your chest, the air stuttering out of your mouth. You felt close to panicking and could just barely hear your father shouting.

You couldn't though. Fear froze your limbs to your side, the bread clenched tightly in your fist. Eventually a quack startled you, snapping you out of your thoughts, and before you knew it, you were off running, the hungry ducks chasing after you, (or, well, the bread).

"Drop the bread!" Tony called out but his child seemed deaf to anything but the quacks. He sighed as he watched his child run off, the ducks paddling as fast as their webbed-feet would allow them after the young person, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He loves his sweet child, but honestly.

Removing his fingers, he opened his eyes to look at how far his child had gotten, and noticed they hadn't gotten that far.

Well, I'm a hero and I save people, even from ducks, Tony thought and chuckled lightly as he took off running, ready to save his child from the 'menacing bread-lovers'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! :D  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. :D
> 
> Here's my [Tumblr](https://ladycookiecupcake.tumblr.com)


	12. birthday dinner | deadpool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> deadpool | wade wilson/gender-neutral reader
> 
> originally published; 23/05/2018  
> edited; 09/01/2020

It was your birthday, and you weren't expecting much.

The usual routine went as followed; you opened any presents and cards you got, spent the day with Wade and then went to dinner with Wade and your parents. It wasn't exciting or anything but you liked it, you got to spend time with the people you loved. You couldn't have asked for more.

It's just....today was a little different.

You knew your parents had been quite busy lately. Their work had been piling up over them, to the point where you were worried they were going to get sick from the pressure and stress, and the number of times you had to remind them to simply eat was not reassuring.

So, you hadn't expected much, you hadn't really even expected the dinner- in fact, you didn't want the dinner. You just wanted them to relax.

However, they were your parents and even with the hardships, they always remembered you. But today, it was as if they'd forgotten you even existed. No phone call, no text, nothing. And maybe it was selfish but... it hurt a little, is all.

This wasn't the first time they'd forgotten to talk to you these past few months, but it was the first time they'd forgotten your birthday, and it was the final straw.

Anything would've been better than nothing at all.

You sighed and looked outside, watching the window blur with raindrops and fog. Occasionally you could see the faint glow of a car light run past.

It was as if the weather wanted to add salt into the wound. Or maybe you were just being melodramatic. You know what? You didn't care.

"(Y/N), stop wallowing in self-pity like a lovesick royal, waiting for their true love to come save them from the nasty weather." Your boyfriend's voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you rolled your eyes, huffing as you looked over your shoulder.

Why couldn't you wallow? You were allowed to! And you were ready to tell him such until you saw what he was trying to tie around his neck. His fingers fiddled with a rainbow-themed tie, brows furrowed.

You took in the rest of his outfit, finally noticing the suit. You stared for a moment longer before standing from the bed to turn fully, pointing.

"What are you wearing, and why?"

"First off, pointing is rude. I thought better of you, (Y/N)," Wade replied with a slightly-exaggerated tone, not at all sounding insulted. "Second, I'm taking you out to dinner...that's what boyfriends do, right?" He paused before shrugging. He went back to struggling with the tie.

You stared for a moment longer and then sighed, shaking your head. Alright then. That was happening. But first, you were fixing that goddamn tie before Wade made more of a mess of it.

Walking over, you gave his protesting hands a gentle slap and fixed the tie into its correct position. Wade stood, a pout on his face. He was always terrible with ties and you always ended up fixing them for him. But at least he tried.

Though there was no reason. You didn't want Wade to feel forced into doing this, it didn't matter. As long as at least Wade remembered, you'd be alright.

And you were about to tell him when a finger interrupted you, squished up against your lips. Wade gave you a look, to which you rolled your eyes at, as he said:

"Shh. Listen to that, you hear it, right? The sound of my partner agreeing to a dinner date with their one true only because their one true only needs Mexican food and sex, which is gonna come later, don't you worry." He added on with a wink.

Then, removing his finger, he leaned forward to steal a quick kiss before walking off, leaving you behind, flustered and confused.

Wade- date- sex- what?! You don't remember Wade ever mentioning this, though he knew your parents hadn't contacted in a while. Of course, it wasn't as if you didn't want to. But that was beside the point. The point was that you hadn't known and therefore wasn't prepared. You looked like a slob, definitely not date-ready.

Oh, why did Wade always dump surprises like these on you at the last minute?

You followed him into the bedroom, opening your mouth to protest- only to pause when you saw a beautiful outfit already on the bed. Something you don't remember ever owning.

"What-?" You went to say but trailed off, walking over to the outfit to gently finger the delicate fabric. You were still a little annoyed he hadn't let you speak earlier, but you also couldn't deny how soft the fabric felt and how soothing it was to touch.

Wade smirked, watching as a little smile appeared on your face, and walked up to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, nestling his chin onto your shoulder.

"Do you like it? I wasn't sure whether to get the blue one or the purple one but decided to go with blue. It complements your eyes, or at least that's what the server told me when I showed her a picture of you."

You didn't bother registering what he was rambling on about, and definitely didn't want to focus on the fact that he'd showed a random stranger a photo of you. Instead, you smiled and leaned over your shoulder, kissing him on the corner of his mouth.

"It's lovely, thank you." You said, turning in his grip. Placing a hand on his rough cheek, you leaned in for a proper kiss.

"I love you." You muttered against his lips and he gave a tiny, sincere smile.

"And I you."

The sound of an alarm startled you and you jumped away from Wade a little, looking around for the sudden noise. Wade was pulling away and shoving you gently towards the bed before you could ask about the noise.

"Come on, get dressed or else we'll be late!" He exclaimed and you chuckled at his quickly-departing figure as he rushed about for something. It didn't take long to get dressed, though you could've spent hours marvelling at just how soft your clothes were.

Though you didn't, you had a much better thing to do. You were going to have a nice dinner with your beloved boyfriend, and after, you'd have dessert. You couldn't wait.


	13. Pigtails and Patience | Father!Thor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> father!thor & child!reader
> 
> published: n/a  
> edited: 08/05/2020

Let it be known that the mighty Thor, God of Thunder, does say no.

He says no to those eager—but admittedly enticing—women; no to going out and 'hunting' anymore—though often reluctantly; and no to big feasts—though maybe it's because they make trying to get your child to sleep a lot harder.

The Mighty God of Thunder can—and will—say no to anything and anyone...except when big, adorable eyes stare up at him, bottom lip quivering and a shy plead on their lips, and then no, he cannot say no to his child.

No matter how embarrassing the situation may be, Thor thought, though maybe he agreed too quickly anyway. He tried to stay as still as possible as 'the fairy did their work'—his child's words, of course.

He was still trying to figure out what 'fairy' even meant. Must have been a Midgardian word, he supposed.

There was a sudden tug to his hair and he yelped—though, if anyone asked, he gave a mighty roar instead. Blue eyes glancing over his shoulder, he noticed the sheepish-and-yet-still-annoyed look on his child's face and sighed.

Oh, he'd moved again.

You see, he fidgets a lot, even when he tries not to. Sitting still for more than a minute was hard, but that didn't please his child. See, it should've been a simple task, one that didn't take too long. All they wanted to do was braid his hair, but every fidget broke the braid and then they'd have to do it all over again.

And he knew they'd be here all night if that's as long as it took.

It took another minute but his child eventually found out a little tug on his hair caused him to stop fidgeting—and yelp like one of those little fluffy creatures that make a lot of noise, he believes they are called a 'dog'.

So, with every fidget, a small hand tugged on his hair. It became so often he began dreading the condition of his hair by the end of this.

He sincerely hoped he did not end up with a bald patch by the end of this.

"Please, papa, stop moving!" The child exclaimed, frustrated. "I'm trying to do this braid!"

They huffed, loud and dramatic, and Thor couldn't help but laugh, his laughter rumbling deep within his chest. (Y/N) sighed, rolling their eyes dramatically, as if the whole world was against them. Another tug later and Thor quickly shut his mouth.

Resisting the urge to huff childishly himself, Thor continued to sit there, trying his best not to slouch or move at all. It was incredibly hard to do so, but he managed.

Until a few minutes later when Thor decided maybe huffing every once in a while was a good idea. Yes, Thor knew he was the adult and yes, he knew he should be more patient but this was Thor.

He was never a patient man. Why would he start now?

And besides, his child was putting him through torture. He was allowed to huff occasionally.

Finally, those glorious words left (Y/N)'s mouth, "Done."

Thor was just about ready to stand and run. He almost didn't care if people saw him with the pigtails. They had decided halfway through to do instead of a braid as they 'suit his hair more', though he suspected it was more because braids were hard.

He got up, ready to run and move his hair out of tugging reach. He was so close to the door as well, only a couple steps away.

"Wait, Papa! I haven't done the third one yet."

Thor froze. What? Third one? There was another pigtail to do?

He might have been the mighty God of Thunder but even he knew pigtails only came in two, one on either side—or at least, he thought they did. Turning back to his child, he shot a confused look at them but felt himself deflate when he saw the hairbands clutched in their hands.

Only two. There were only two simple hairbands but two meant more, and more meant not moving... He didn't think he could do that.

He was starting to regret saying yes to them.

Still, Thor huffed and sat back down, trying to get as comfortable as possible.

\---

Another hour was all it took—he almost felt like crying— because (Y/N) had, had trouble with one of the hairbands, only to accidentally fling it across the room. It completely disappeared after that, clearly tired of being manhandled as well, and so they had to go in search of another one.

He wasn't aware hairbands could just disappear like that.

By the end of it, his arse felt numb and he felt like screaming. He needed to move! Now!

Luckily, this time when his child said they were done, they meant it. Thor stood, stretched and walked over to a mirror. He at least wanted to see his child's creation before he went running like a dog through a meadow, all happy and free.

Turning a little, he couldn't help but stare a little at his hair. Strangely, it reminded him of a claw, the mini fingers of the claw pointing inwards into his head. There were three pigtails—and one ponytail— and all of them were tied together as best as (Y/N) could, which admittedly wasn't the greatest.

The ponytail and pigtails were brought together as tightly and neatly as they should have been, and the pigtails looked close to coming apart. It was odd, to say the least. But a quick glance in the mirror and he could see the happy, hopeful expression on his child's face, and he smiled.

But it didn't matter if it was a little messy. His child had done it and they were happy about it, and that was all that mattered.

"Do you like it, Papa?" (Y/N) asked, excited to hear their father's view on the hairstyle. Smiling, Thor turned and knelt down, wrapping an arm around their tiny shoulders, careful not to squash them.

"It's wonderful, sweetheart! Truly wonderful!" They pulled back and beamed up at him, and Thor realised that while he didn't like sitting still, that smile was worth everything.


	14. love will find you;;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hawkeye | clint barton x stark!gender-neutral!reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> published: 29/05/2020  
> edited: n/a - not yet
> 
> I sort of rushed it at the end and it's obvious, but I hope you like it regardless <3

There is a longing that comes with the realisation that you're in love; longing for the past, longing for the future. You long for the old times, where no such love existed, when it was easier; you long for the possibilities, the daydreams of _what if?_

You realise and then you regret.

This was only supposed to be fun, something that you two could do and joke about later on, maybe even win her over with. How did it come to this?

\---

Your brother was the first to know and then you followed.

He mentioned it in passing but you denied it, denied everything he said and answered with a simple ‘it’s a joke’. He shook his head and that was that.

And then, one day, you looked over and noticed _him_. Clint Barton. He wasn’t different, he wore nothing more than his usual attire, his smile remained the same, _he_ remained the same—and yet suddenly your heart beat a little faster and your breathing picked up and the urge to be near him got _stronger_.

Love has a nasty way of sneaking up on you. That was one thing the movies had right about love. What they didn't have right were proper ways to deal with it. So you followed instinct— you avoided him.

And then, all that had remained was the aftermath.

\---

For the most part, it was easy enough. Avoiding him was simple; leave every time he entered the room, say you were busy if asked, and just generally be rude (because you couldn't deny that you were, even if that wasn't your intention).

Tony was willing to help. You were his little sibling, after all. He'd support you even if your ideas were stupid, and you were glad. If he helped that'd mean people wouldn't ask questions, and if nobody asked questions, then you never had to confront the answers, which you didn't want to do. Ever.

The missions helped, of course. They offered you—and for the most part, the others—a distraction of sorts, helped you think of something other than wayward emotions, and it was nice not to have to worry. You could go about the day as if nothing had changed.

And sure, there were times you found yourself wandering closer to Clint, and there were times you found you had to remind yourself why exactly you were avoiding him.

But they could be ignored, so you ignored them. The missions kept coming in and your emotions kept getting pushed to the side.

Then Clint started trying to get your attention, and it became suddenly harder to ignore him. You _wanted_ to go over to him, to talk to him, to explain everything but the thought scared you. There were so many what-ifs running through your mind; what if he didn’t want to be your friend? What if it made him uncomfortable? What if he hated you because of it?

What if it changed absolutely nothing?

Which then brought about the question of what would be worse, if he hated you or continued to be 'just friends'. So you didn’t answer his questions, ran when he came closer and hid when he went in search of you.

He was stubborn though, and when he realised just _talking_ to you wasn't going to work, he decided to try another way—he began to involve the missions.

Whenever there was a mission that involved the two of you, you could bet your arse he was going to get rid of all the bad guys first, so you had no choice _but_ to listen to him. You, of course, didn't want to give him the chance so you beat him, downing all of the bad guy’s minions and grabbing whatever superweapon or piece of information the bad guy had this time, disappearing before he could utter even a syllable of your name.

At some point, it became a war between the two of you; first, to see who could down all of the minions first and disappear the quickest (at least, that was your intention), and then, to see how many could get the highest amount before they all had to leave.

It was childish and dangerous but neither of you seemed completely aware. The bad guys went down easily enough and you got what you came for; it was fine as far as you two were concerned.

And then life punched you in the face, in the form of a stronger-than-expected minion. He was of average height but had muscles the size of Hulk, and a good punch to go with them. He was all disproportionate but it didn't matter when his fist sent you flying.

Even with super speed, you weren't given enough time to duck, and before you knew it you were on the other side of the room, collapsed haphazardly against the wall, like a broken doll with its strings cut off.

You tried to regain your breath as the Hulk wannabe advanced on you but it was hard. All of the air had been knocked out of you and you were in complete agony. You couldn't even speed your way out of this one, you were going to die here.

So all you could do was try and brace yourself, quickly curling into a ball.

Nothing came.

Looking up, you half expected him to still be looming over you, just waiting for you to look up. But no, instead he was struggling to get a rather skinny-in-comparison man off of his back, thick fingers grasping at tinier arms around his neck.

The bow of Hawkeye stuck out behind the tinier man and you almost lost your breath again. What was he doing? Was he trying to get himself killed? This man was twice the size of him; he'd crush him the second he got Clint off of him.

You couldn't let that happen! You couldn’t lose him!

“(Y/N)! Get up!” Someone yelled and soon your brother was beside you, helping you up and dragging you away. You tried to fight him off but it was as if your whole body had lost its strength; you felt weak, and all you could do was watch as Clint himself was thrown against the wall.

Then you were off into the air, carried by your brother, away from the mess you'd created. What were you thinking? Getting distracted like that? If you hadn't focused on being so stupid and childish, maybe that man wouldn't have caught you off guard. Maybe Clint wouldn't be on the floor, body possibly broken.

God, what were you _thinking_?

And then, with that final thought, you spent the next however-long falling in and out of an unconscious state.

\---

You went back to avoiding him after that. It was easier, safer too. For him, for everyone. But this time, you had no distractions; you weren't allowed on any missions, not until ‘you were properly healed’. Though you also knew it was because of your behaviour.

If you couldn't act like an adult in the field, then you'd be treated like a child outside of it.

And yeah, you probably- no, _definitely_ deserved it but it didn't make things any better. If anything, it meant you were stuck with the thoughts in your head, the ones you'd been trying so goddamn hard to avoid.

It meant you had to eventually confess to yourself things you didn't want to; that you liked Clint Barton as more than a friend, that you wanted him to like you the same way back; that you wanted somebody to love you the same way you saw your father love your mother; that you wanted somebody to talk to about things you couldn't with your brother, like your parents' death, in a way that you couldn't with a friend, not without making things awkward.

But the likelihood of any of that happening was below zero. Instead, you'd probably scare him off. Then you'd be all on your own again and it'd be all your fault. As everything seemed to be.

You couldn't have one nice thing without ruining it, could you? You lost your parents, you nearly lost your brother, and now you'd lost your friend.

And sure, the first one wasn't your fault by any means but you'd argued with them, you and your brother, and it was with that thought that made you wonder; did they leave thinking you hated them? Did they know you loved them? Could you have stopped them?

And your brother seemed to always be one step away from death. He was addicted to death, it seemed, and every day you worried it would be the last.

Would he leave you? Would he leave thinking you hated him too? Could you handle that, him not being there when all you had was him?

Because sure, he was your brother and you had many disagreements, but you still loved him. Of course, you did. He was the only one you had left, the only one who seemed to care for you.

And then Clint came along, and you had two.

When you and Tony would argue you had someone to go to. You had Clint and he made life a little easier, reassured you when Tony went a mission, helped you when he got so focused on a new project he wouldn't eat or sleep.

Clint was your rock. So, of course, you had to go and fuck it up.

 _Feelings_ got in the way, and you couldn't have that. You couldn't ruin something so good with feelings... so you ruined it with stubbornness and fear. But that's what you get for wanting more, for always wanting more.

And now, it nearly killed him. All this fighting, this childishness, this avoidance—you nearly killed him, and you'd never forgive yourself for that. So, yeah, maybe avoiding him again wasn't a good idea but maybe, this time, he'd get the message.

He'd give up and move on, maybe even get with Natasha. That was the whole plan after all; get her jealous by flirting with one another. You just weren't supposed to turn it into something more complicated.

Maybe then he'd realise you were a Stark and Starks ruined everything they touched.

\---

But of course, he did not.

Honestly, he was too stubborn for his own fucking good.

Clint didn't give up, of course not. Though he didn't let you in on this little fact, until the last minute of course.

After the incident with Hulk Wannabe, you'd been put under constant surveillance by your brother. The boss of Hulk Wannabe hadn't been entirely happy they'd destroyed most of her equipment and killed all (even Big Guy) of the minions in that building, and of course, it didn't take a genius to know it was S.H.I.E.L.D who'd attacked.

So your brother, being the overprotective man he was, decided ten guards should be enough for your protection. Well, no, he wanted twenty but you'd threatened to cut his dick off if he even tried, so he compromised with ten.

Not that it meant anything. As soon as he wasn't in view, eight of those ten dispersed and only two stuck with you. They changed so each of them got a chance of a break, but there were always two with you. It was a bit better, less overcrowding, and though you would have preferred none at all, it was better than all of them.

You could relax a little, help your still-healing body without ten bodyguards breathing down your neck, and you could appease your brother’s mother hen-like worry over you. It was a win-win, you had thought.

Until Clint used it against you.

It was time for a changeover, to allow two of your morning bodyguards a bit of a break. You usually used this time to take a walk as well, to stretch your legs and breathe some fresh air into your lungs.

After checking the time, you struggled your way up, limped into the lift, waited for the two to follow you inside and then pressed the button. The doors shut with a soft thud and for a second you almost wished for some elevator music.

It was always so awkward, the silence. You didn't know what to say or do, and the expressionless looks on the other two's faces never helped. Did you ask how their day was? Would they even answer?

You tried it once, with the first two afternoon guards, and needless to say, it didn't help matters. You didn't know emotionless expressions could become even _less_ emotionless. It must be a necessary requirement, to be a bodyguard; be a voiceless and emotionless as possible.

The doors opened soon, thankfully, and soon you were out in the bustling halls of the floor level, overwhelmed in a familiar sort of way.

The two bodyguards stayed close as you walked along the halls, and everyone seemed to avoid the two hulking figures even when they weren't looking, almost by instinct. Soon you were in front of the other two bodyguards.

You turned, thanked the first two and waited for them to leave before turning back to the second couple.

“I'm gonna go for a walk. You two ready?” You asked and they nodded obediently, as always. You nodded back and turned. Their voiceless answers used to unnerve you but you learned to get used to it after the fifth time Tony sent bodyguards to you.

You even learned to both ignore them and keep an awareness of them in the back of your mind. You never wanted to repeat the last time you forgot they were there; it still gives you the shudders. So, now they were just an ever-present figure of protection.

Though you could do without the sunglasses. You knew it was to protect their identity; if no one saw the eyes, you couldn't _really_ identify them properly. But it was just...weird, wearing sunglasses indoors, especially those ones. They always reminded you of the Men in Black, honestly.

You shook your head and focused on limping your way over to the door, careful to avoid the distracted passerby, and breathed in once you were outside.

Being stuck inside all day made you almost crave the outside air, even on a relatively-chilly day like today. Sometimes you just needed a breather, away from everyone, where you could focus on other people or nothing at all—and definitely not your emotions.

The walk never took long, simply because you knew your brother would worry if it did. So, after an hour or two of walking and checking up on everyone else, you turned to go back inside, only to pause when you noticed one of your bodyguards wasn’t there.

You raised an eyebrow but the remaining guard didn’t answer. Not that you expected him to. You sighed and carried on your journey. Maybe the other guard had something to do; it wasn’t as if their actual job was to protect you 24/7, it was just a thing your brother had told them to add onto it.

They were still S.H.I.E.L.D. workers, not his.

So, you didn’t question it and you continued to _not_ question it right up until the moment you were dragged into an empty room, the only warning you got being a firm grip on your forearm. You stumbled into your room before quickly trying to righten yourself, turning to face whoever had caught you off guard.

But all you saw was the other bodyguard, closing the door behind him, and then a soft _click_ alerted you he'd locked it as well.

You took a step back, trying to be as quiet as possible. What was he doing? Did he see something? Was he trying to protect you or something?

Maybe that was it, just locking the door for your safety… maybe.

You paused when he turned to face you, trying to act less suspicious. Suddenly you found yourself wanting your own pair of glasses, at least you’d be able to check the room without him noticing. He stared for a moment and then his mouth opened—and closed, and then opened again.

The strange bodyguard turned quickly into a fish, gaping as if expecting words to come out every time his mouth opened. Nothing did, though; no words, no noise, nothing.

It continued on like this for an uncomfortably long time, before the man sighed and walked over to the window. You froze without meaning to when he passed you, but he either didn't notice it or completely ignored it, instead choosing to open the window and lean out a little.

His shoulders fell as the cool air hit his face. A couple of deep breathes left him and then he turned, taking off the glasses. You weren't sure who to expect but Clint wasn't it.

You turned into the fish, staring with wide eyes as you fought for words to escape. What-? Why-? Huh?! Why was he here, pretending to be a bodyguard? How did nobody notice? Then again, why would they? It wasn't as if he was a threat.

Still, that meant you were now stuck here with him, alone, and while you didn't fear him—obviously— you also didn't want to talk to him. Or else, all of that avoiding would've been for nothing.

Maybe you could open the door. There had to be something in this room to pick the lock. You turned, searching high and low for something. A fallen pin, a hairclip, a _knife_ — look, you were desperate. Obviously there wasn't going to be a knife here but still, a person can dream.

"(Y/N)?" The call of your name snapped you back to the present. There was something to it that made you pause though, and you couldn't help but look over. He was frowning and looked almost as if he was in pain.

"Please don't ignore me."

You flinched and turned away. No, you couldn't- you didn't want to ignore him but he'd hate you if he knew the truth.

The sound of footsteps seemed to echo as they neared before stopping just behind you. Warmth hovered over your shoulder before a hand covered it, and you had to resist the urge to lean into it.

You wanted so badly to do just that, let him hug you, go back to normal.

Sighing, you shrugged him off, only to gasp as the hand quickly gripped your wrist and turned you around. You stumbled and it was only a hand on your hip that stopped you from falling.

Warmth spread across your cheeks when you looked up and saw how...imploringly he was looking into your eyes. Like he was trying desperately to see... _something_. You were frozen, limbs refusing to move even if you wanted to.

The silence seemed to stretch and you could feel yourself sweating. Little pants escaped you and your heart was close to beating out of your chest—and then he smiled, and unwittingly you relaxed.

You frowned in suspicion. Why was he smiling?

"So it's true." He said, practically whispering in awe and you frowned deeper.

"What-?" You were cut up when both of his hands released you, only to pull you in closer. His arms wrapped around you and he hugged you as if afraid you'd disappear if he didn't. Your arms were by your sides, confusion numbing your mind for a moment.

What was he doing? What's true?

Stunned, you would've stayed like that, were it not for him suddenly pushing you away. His hands remained on your shoulders though, as he searched your face and then frowned.

"It is true... right?" He trailed off, almost in fear, and you shrugged his hands off successfully this time. You stepped away and ignored the look on his face.

"I don't know what you're even going on about. What's true?" You asked and he crumbled. His face fell before shutting off.

"That you- but maybe she was wrong- she's never wrong-." Clint kept interrupting himself with half-finished sentences, and it only served to confuse you more. What was he going on about?

"Clint!" You snapped. "Who was wrong about what?"

"Natasha, she- she said-," He trailed off once more and you glared. "She said you loved me." It was whispered so quietly, you almost didn't hear it. The flinch you gave prevented you from pretending you hadn't though.

Oh... _oh._ Since when-? Natasha knew! How?! You were so sure you'd kept it quiet. Sure, you hadn't been acting yourself but you'd assumed they just knew something was wrong, not that they actually knew _what_ it was.

Oh god. And then Natasha told Clint, who- who acted so happy...? Huh? Why was he so happy? He liked Natasha, didn't he? That was the point of your flirting, at the beginning; trying to get Natasha jealous.

Right?

You looked up at Clint and saw the crestfallen look on his face. Oh, well, that- that spoke of so many things. He was actually upset at the thought that you didn't like him. He was the exact opposite of what you thought he'd be... oh.

"You-," You paused and glanced him over. He had looked up, though that frown was still there. "You like me? As, you know, more than a friend?" You hadn't many to make it sound like a question, but you couldn't help it. You didn't want to get your hopes up, though it was still there.

Clint's response was quick, startlingly so. He nodded so much, you were worried his neck was going to snap.

"Since when?"

"I'm not sure, it just sort of...happened?" He seemed unsure almost but you understood. It was the same for you.

Still, didn't make the knowledge any easier. You should've been happy and really, you were but... maybe it was the numerous failed relationships, maybe it was the constant anxieties of nearly losing everyone you've loved, maybe it was your insecurities but something was preventing you from accepting it.

And something was preventing you from hiding that, though. Clint seemed to see right through you and stepped closer, just a little.

"I- I know it's surprising. Nat told me I should've told you a long time ago but I suppose I was just...worried, that you wouldn't feel the same. And I didn't know what I'd do if you said no." He broke off in a whisper but you could hear just fine.

God, he was feeling the exact same as you; fear of rejection, insecurities winning over any sort of determination you may have had. You didn't think he'd feel the same way, in any sort of way, and yet...

You wanted to accept it, you really wanted it and Clint wasn't one to lie. He never lied to you anyway, even when you sometimes wanted him to. He always made sure to be blunt with you, be it about fashion advice or how 'stupid you were during a mission'.

So maybe... maybe this wasn't a lie, maybe he really did like you the same way you liked him. God, that'd be great.

You bit your lip and released a breath through your nose before stepping closer, stopping only once you were directly in front of him. You lifted a hand, hesitating only a second before you placed it on his cheek and slowly brought him down.

You wanted to give him time to move away if he wanted to, to tell you if this was all a prank or not but he didn't. Instead, he followed you down until his lips touched yours.

They were warm and fit so perfectly against yours. It took your breath away but you didn't want to break away. This felt right like it was supposed to happen. His arms wrapped themselves around you, pulling you in and you let him, wrapping your own arms around his neck.

And you would've carried on if it wasn't for the sharp sting in your ankle. You broke through to let out a gasp and looked down to glare at your ankle.

"What? What's wrong?" Clint asked, worried and you sighed, looking back up. He was so close and you just wanted to kiss him again, but your ankle was hurting quite badly now and you knew it wasn't going away any time soon. You didn't want this moment ruined either, so you decided it could wait.

"My ankle, it still hurts." You answered, and then remembered, "And how are you? Last time I saw you, you were..." You paused, wincing at the memory.

Clint chuckled and replied, "Still in pain. Serves me right for hanging onto Mister Muscles."

You chuckled.

"He was quite big, wasn't he?"

"Oh, the hugest. Almost rivalled Hulk."

"That's exactly what I thought, but Tony didn't see it."

Clint smiled down at you and you smiled back. Yeah, this was nice, and you could definitely make it work. You'd definitely try.

"Let's head back. Tony's bound to be worrying and the last thing either of us want is him finding us in here." You explained, "He'd probably think you're trying to kill me or something."

Clint rolled his eyes but said nothing, knowing full well how protective Tony was of his family. Instead, he wrapped an arm under your armpits and helped you limp along, unlocking the door easily.

You both managed to make it upstairs before Tony seemed to notice, but you didn't mind. You and Clint had time to make up, and maybe if a kiss or two was added here or there, well, you weren't complaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! :D  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. :D
> 
> Here's my [Tumblr](https://ladycookiecupcake.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! :D  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. :D
> 
> Here's my [Tumblr](https://ladycookiecupcake.tumblr.com)


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